Empire of Darkness
by cariaudry
Summary: Clary and Jace, having escaped Valentine and Jonathan, are safely hidden in the City of Glass, and are settling into the marriage they have both longed for. Clary, though, is still haunted by her past, not helped by the unwelcome reappearance of her mother, and things soon turn sour in Idris. The Clave is desperate to act and Clary and Jace find themselves in the heart of it all.
1. The Shadows Move

The Shadows Move

_Idiots! Do they really think Clary is in any shape to go gadding about-_especially _back to Idris? I don't care if she knows the castle; if that counsel thinks he's sending my wife anywhere, he's got another thing coming! _thought Jace furiously as he stormed down the hall to his and Clary's room. He threw open the door thoughtlessly, and it banged against the wall; immediately, he regretted it.

Clary was curled under the many blankets on the bed, her eyes shut tightly, and her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. The blue shadows under her eyes told Jace how little sleep she had been getting lately, and that only recently she had fallen asleep. He had no intention of waking Clary-not after the last few weeks-and very carefully shut the door and locked it. He crossed the room and added a few logs to the fire, watching the flames spring to life and hungrily consume the wood. A warm glow permeated the room, and Jace glanced back at the sleeping figure.

It had been hard on Clary since her mother's return; they didn't speak often, and when they did, Clary held herself at some distance, her voice always slightly ironic and her eyes sparkling malevolently. It had reminded Jace something of Valentine, and he realized that Clary could be truly cruel is she ever put her mind to it. Unfortunately, the hard face she wore for her mother's benefit only lasted until they had returned to her room; there it would fall away and behind the mask would be a drawn, pale visage. Jace often encouraged Clary to sleep, but she since their arrival, she had been a woman possessed, constantly seeking out training in all fields and doing her best to put aside the princess she had been born and embracing the wife she now was.

Jace watched on as she traded away her useless jewelry, all but for the necklace and ring he'd given her, for wool and fabric and cooking necessities. Isabelle had taken Clary under her wing, showing her how to cook the food they had, how to clean clothing with a bucket of water, how to keep a house. She had immediately taken up making another, thicker blanket for their bed, which she'd completed in a week, tirelessly knitting her stress away. She'd prepared food and stored it, next. And, when it seemed food was no longer a problem, moved on to all her other house chores. She had put aside most of her shadowhunter training, and Jace was slightly concerned.

He knew Clary wanted to forget everything from her past, he knew the idea of being a simple house wife was appealing to her, and he wanted more than anything for Clary to be happy, but she couldn't put aside who she was born. Suppressing her shadowhunter self wasn't healthy, and Clary was, though she tried to deny it, an _amazing _shadowhunter. Jace had been gentle with her, never pushing her to take back up her blades and runes, but he was worried for her.

A few weeks ago, Clary had started having terrible nightmares, and she would spend most of the nights tossing and turning, moaning. Jace found the only remedy for the night terrors was for him to hold her, which he had done willingly. However, the nightmares weren't the only problem; Clary was bone tired, and couldn't focus on anything that wasn't a simple task. She was quiet for hours on end and the feeling of her hand in Jace's was slight and cold. He thought she was slipping away.

It hadn't helped that the Clave had been summoning her day after day, demanding her display her special talent with runes. Jace was furious that Jocelyn hadn't tried to protect her daughter from the Clave, and had had no problems letting her know how he felt. Magnus, who indeed sat on the Clave, was more sympathetic to Clary than her own mother. Jace had expressed his concern to the warlock, and Magnus had risen to the occasion with bundles of herbs that, when burned, emitted a relaxing fragrance, but Jace was beginning to think a potion might be called for. However, the herbs weren't very effective when the Clave also asked Clary to recount much of her life, asking her specific questions about her father and brother. Clary had managed to avoid speaking of her many assaults, but she couldn't hide anything else about Jonathan. They picked her mind apart, and it left her empty. Clary sometimes would go back to their room, lie in the bed in Jace's arms, and sob silently.

Now, Clary murmured in her sleep again, and Jace turned at once to her. He tossed another bundle of leaves on the fire and the scent exploded into the air before he joined Clary under the blankets. It had become so commonplace for Jace to wrap her up in his arms, that he did it seamlessly and without waking her. Clary shifted her sleeping position so she could form herself to Jace's and he watched the tension straining her face slip away. Gently, he brushed her hair back off her face and hummed in his throat.

They stayed that way for a long time, Clary sleeping and Jace humming, until there was a knock on the door. Jace glanced at it, wondering who was here to torment Clary this time, but the door opened on its own accord, and Jace knew very few people who would open their door without asking. Alec came in, followed closely by Isabelle, and when they spotted the two on the bed, raised their eyebrows.

"Is this a bad time?" Alec asked softly.

Jace shrugged. "As good a time as any," he said. "Once she's asleep, Clary will sleep though almost anything. She hasn't been getting a lot of sleep lately, so just talk quietly."

Isabelle closed the door firmly and locked it. "How is it going with the Clave?"

Almost at once, Jace's face darkened. "I swear on the Angel, if they drag Clary in there one more time to ask her about Jonathan I'm going to-"

"What do they want?" Isabelle asked, feeling angry for Clary. "And why isn't Jocelyn standing up for her?"

"The Clave wants answers, especially after they found out Clary can create runes." Jace glanced down at the girl in his arms and wondered just how many other amazing things she could do. "I don't know about Jocelyn, and, frankly, I don't want to know. I don't really care what some coward like her has to say; she ran away and left Clary with those monsters."

Alec looked down. "Magnus didn't really want to tell the Clave, you know."

"I know," Jace murmured. "Besides, he's been doing his best to make it right. He's the one that gave us the leaves to burn. They've been helping Clary sleep, but I think I'll need to ask him for something more."

"I'll ask," Alec said at once. "I've been working with him more often, and I'm heading over to his rooms today anyway. I'll see what he has for sleeping potions."

"Thanks," Jace sighed. "What are you doing for Magnus anyway? I would have thought a High Warlock was too important to have need for a servant."

Alec shrugged. "I figured as much, but he seems to like having me around, running errands and such, and he's been paying me, so I can't complain."

Jace smiled a little to himself at the thought of Alec chasing after Magnus. "Well, as long as you're making it worth it, I can't see why it's troubling. Leastways, a sleeping potion would be nice."

"This place must be wearing her down," Isabelle said decidedly, though not unkindly. "I mean, it's not like she's really ever had to work much in her life. It must be tiring to have a household to run."

"It's not that," Jace said. "If Clary could, I think she'd move back out to Woodend, and spend the rest of her life keeping the land and manor. She _wants _to be a simple housewife. This shadowhunter business, that's what's making her sick."

"But, it's who she is," Isabelle argued. "Clary was always a shadowhunter, she always acted like one; how can she be tired of it?"

"The Clave," was all Jace said in response. "Isabelle, could you come back tomorrow and help Clary with the cooking and washing? I know it's been building up and Clary's been going on about it, but she's just so _tired _lately; I can't let her keep going like this."

"Of course, as long as she doesn't mind Max running about," Isabelle said with a smile. "He doesn't have school tomorrow."

Jace grinned at the thought of Max, who, since their meeting, had begun viewing him as the hero of countless adventures. He knew he should be flattered that Max had taken to something like hero-worship of him, especially when the boy had his own brother, but he sometimes wished Max would turn that adoration on Alec, or at least Isabelle.

"He's welcome since I still owe him some lessons with a sword," laughed Jace.

"Yes, he hasn't forgotten that," growled Isabelle. "Every day he goes on and on about what he's learning in school, but he keeps begging to learn how to use a sword. I don't know why…"

"I'll show him," Jace decided. "And I'm sure Clary will appreciate the help."

They spoke a little bit more about life, how Isabelle was adjusting to her new job, running above ground for the farmers, and how Max was taking to the school setting having never had a formal education before, but the day wore on quickly. Isabelle excused herself to go find Max before he wandered off after school, and Alec muttered something about finding Magnus and getting that sleeping potion. Left alone, Jace rose and went to add another log to the fire.

"You really should leave that to me," murmured Clary, not opening her eyes but rolling over to get a better view of Jace. "It's my job to see to this house since you're the one going out on patrols, earning us our bread."

Jace smirked. His patrols were nothing more than getting on a horse and ranging about the city, looking for trespassers or worse. He'd taken the job mainly because he had been given some newer weapons and the chance he might get into a skimerish, as Jace hated nothing so much as sitting about and doing what he deemed "nothing". The Clave had offered him better positions because he was a lord, but he suspected the reason for their offer was so that they might keep a closer eye on him. The Clave suspected, though they'd never admit it, that Jace knew something, or _was _something, more than he said. Otherwise, why would Valentine be so keen to keep him around? Jocelyn had certainly given Jace a very close look.

"That job is hardly worthy of the title," Jace sneered. "All I do is ride a horse all day; I hardly think that counts as work."

"You train," Clary finally said, opening her eyes and blinking away the sleep. "You go and practice with the other men and women."

Jace wasn't sure if he heard raw longing or unfathomable tiredness in her voice. "I don't know why I bother, their practice is hardly worthwhile."

Clary smiled at Jace this time. It hadn't taken long for the instructors to notice Jace; what with his stunning good looks and wit, coupled with his matchless skill with a blade. In two months, Jace had been promoted twice, and he seemed to be very popular among the Watch, as the shadowhunters who went out on these patrols, deemed themselves. He had started bringing in a handsome salary, though Clary insisted on not flaunting their status, and preferred herself to remain in the shadows and watch him. She was known by association only among the common shadowhunters and people they lived around, though, where the Clave was concerned, she was the one to keep their eyes on.

"What would make it worthwhile?" asked Clary, sitting up and stretching her toes.

"If you would join me," Jace said at once. The idea of Clary working alongside him was at once intriguing. Getting her away from the house and her worries could only be good for her. Besides, he liked the idea of Clary hunting alongside him, it thrilled him. "I'm sure they would let you out with me."

"Just because I'm your wife doesn't mean they will let me work with you. These are shadowhunters, they don't believe in separating the sexes and they don't believe in letting a woman ride with a man, just because she is his wife."

"You're more than capable of fighting," Jace said softly. "I know Valentine taught you how to fight, I know what you can do."

Clary looked away, unable to hold Jace's burning gold gaze. "I don't know, Jace; I don't know if I want to go back to that…"

Jace sighed, but he wasn't going to push Clary, instead he joined her on the bed and kissed her. "I know you don't want it, Clary, I was just suggesting you look for something outside this place. It can't be good for you to be locked up in here."

"Maybe not," admitted Clary. "I just want to be left alone. I just want the Clave to leave me to my peace and quit questioning me."

"I know it gets tiring, I know it's painful," Jace murmured in Clary's hair. He truly did feel for her, especially after having had a taste of her life. "But you're better than it, Clary, you're better than Jonathan and Valentine, and you're better than your past."

Clary lifted her gaze up to Jace, and she saw in his eyes more desperation than ever before. He _wanted _her to leave behind this little house, he wanted for her to return to the world of living, wanted so badly for her to come with him. Clary felt his pain like it were her own, and she squeezed him tighter, trying to make him understand that she was scared. She was scared if she returned to the attention of the public, her life would spiral back to what it once was…but Jace didn't see that. He saw only her tired eyes and her sad empty gazes.

"Perhaps I'll see," said Clary after a moment. "But, only if you'll come with me." _I could only stand it if I had Jace by my side. _

Jace's eyes brightened at once, burning gold. "Clary, I'll follow you to the ends of the world and back if that's what you wanted. You need only say it."

"I love you," Clary said simply, realizing for the first time how much she really loved Jace. "I'll love you to the ends of the world." A thousand responses passed through Jace's mind, a thousand different ways of letting Clary know how much he loved her too, but they all got jumbled up in his mind and he couldn't find words. Clary laughed. "What's this? The witty Jace Herondale at a loss for words? I thought I'd never see the day."

"I was surprised is all," said Jace quickly.

"Surprised I loved you after everything you've done for me?" Clary smiled. "No, you just don't have the words to express your love, I think."

Jace raised his hands helplessly. "You're right, little one. I'm afraid, for once in your life, I am without words. You've left me breathless."

Clary rolled carefully, and very suddenly, Jace found her seated on his hips. She smiled at him devilishly, and he felt her hands creep along his sides and up to his shoulders. "You're not breathless, not yet at least." Though Jace had had every intention of letting Clary continue sleeping, he found that she was very distracting, and he didn't have the will to make her go back to bed.

It turned into a very pleasant evening, just the two of them, making up for the lost time that the stress of the Clave had taken. Clary was very curious to pick up her love life with Jace, but since her arrival, it had been hard. It wasn't so much that she had been pushing Jace away, but the constant reliving of Jonathan was too much for her to bear. Jace, very attuned to Clary's thoughts, had not pushed her. He had offered her the affection and comfort she looked for, and let her set the pace of their relationship. Now, Clary was feeling strangely eager to explore her sexuality. She found being away from the castle and Jonathan and Valentine liberating; there was no one watching her belly for the telltale sign of a pregnancy. There were no eyes glaring at her in condemnation. There was no one who really cared what she did with her husband. It suddenly opened up countless of avenues, countless adventures.

_Perhaps you should practice that love bite Isabelle mentioned_, thought Clary to herself, and then blushed at her thought. However, Jace was pleasantly surprised when she bit him.

Much later, as the embers in the fire glowed lazily and stroked their bare bodies with its red glow, Clary stirred and pressed herself against Jace's chest. "I'm sorry I've been so withdrawn lately."

Jace brushed his fingers through Clary's hair. "I've missed you, Clary."

"I've certainly missed me too," Clary agreed, and she snuggled closer. "I'm glad you waited."

For a while, they watched the fire crackle and burn down to the embers. Clary sighed and swung her legs about, pulling her feet back as they touched the cold stone floor, but she tossed her hair over her shoulders and slipped out from under the blankets. Unfortunately, Clary had tossed her robe over the chair close to the bathroom, and with the fire so low, the room was bitterly cold. Jace, however, rolled on his side and propped his head up on his hand, enjoying the view of Clary's naked, narrow backside.

"This is flattering angle, Clary," Jace teased gently.

Clary tossed her hair over her shoulder and cast him a playful look. "Enjoy it while you can, Jace." Clary plucked the robe up off the chair and wrapped it loosely about herself.

"I think you and I should agree that whenever we are alone in this room, we have to go naked. It will certainly keep things interesting between us." Jace watched Clary place a log on the fire, admiring the play of red and gold in her hair. "Do you agree, little wife?"

Clary stood up and lifted her chin proudly, and Jace was reminded at once of the princess she was. Swiftly, with the speed of a shadowhunter, Clary tugged the blankets off the bed, leaving Jace bare before her. "So long as you're going to play along." She laughed loudly and jumped on the bed, landing on top of him. Jace caught Clary and the two rolled on the bed.

Clary landed sitting on top of Jace's waist, and she leaned over and kissed him luxuriously. Just then, though, there was a loud pounding on the door. Clary bolted upright at the same time Jace tried swing her around behind him. It resulted in Clary lying with a leg tossed over Jace's thigh, and Jace sitting naked before the closed door. The knocking continued.

"Who is it?" Jace called, anticipating Alec with the sleeping potion.

"Jace, it's Jocelyn." There was a long pause. "I would like to speak with you and Clarissa, if I could have your time."

Jace glanced over at Clary, whose face was blank and pale, no sign of the joy she'd just been feeling. When she saw him, Clary blinked and shrugged helplessly. "Stay here," Jace said softly to Clary, and he pulled himself out of bed and pulled on a loose pair of pants. When he threw open the door, he stood bare-chested before Jocelyn, arms crossed, a dark look on his face. "We were a little busy," Jace said, wantonly provocative.

But Jocelyn was not Queen of Idris for nothing, and the crude wordplay of a young duke didn't faze the woman one wit. "Be that as it may, duty calls, and it is a seductive song. May I come in?"

Jace considered saying no, but knew there was no point in denying Jocelyn when she sat in such a high place on the Clave. He stepped aside with a flourish of his arms. "But of course."

Jocelyn entered the room, closing the door firmly behind her, and she glanced about. Her eyes darted from the small fire to the desk, to the bathroom, and finally alighted on Clary, who was clearly naked beneath her robe and seated in a mess of blankets on her bed. "I wish you two would accept my invitation to live with me. This is no place for my daughter and her husband, not when there is so much spare room in my home."

"I like my freedom," Clary said simply.

Jocelyn blinked. "I would certainly not seek to impugn on your freedoms. I, after all, was the one who pushed for this marriage. My home is lonely often, and I would not say no to the sound of happy voices."

"We'll consider it, Mother, but I know I am quite attached to this little hovel." Clary looked all around her, her eyes finally coming to rest on the mussed bed. "It has its certain charm."

Again, Jocelyn, wasn't one to flinch away from crudeness, not even her daughter's open jib. She offered her daughter a serene smile and settled on the chair before the small desk. "I know how much you wish to live the simple life of a wife, but you're so much more than, Clarissa."

"Don't call me that," Clary said at once. "Only Father ever called me that."

"Daughter, please, reconsider." When Clary and Jace stared back at her, Jocelyn sighed. "I've come because the Clave has received news from Idris, and it's unsettling. I know you're going to be summoned soon, and would seek to prepare you for what you're going to hear."

Clary glanced swiftly to Jace. "What has happened?"

Jocelyn looked away ruefully. "It's Jonathan. He's taken the throne from Valentine…you're father is dead."

Clary couldn't stop herself from gasping, and even Jace's face registered the shock. "Jonathan killed Valentine?" Jace asked.

"I'm afraid so," Jocelyn said. "It seems he was tired of waiting for nature to take its course-"

"He'll come for me!" Clary cried at once, lunging from her bed and into Jace's arms. "Jace, he'll come looking for me; he'll never let me go."

Jace's arms constricted around Clary involuntarily. "He can't find you here, Clary; I won't let him."

"He's killed my father for the throne alone, what's to stop him from hunting me down?" Clary could feel herself shaking. "He'll come for me and when he does he'll kill you."

"That's not going to happen," Jace said firmly. "He won't kill me, and I promise you, I'm not going to let him take you."

Though his words were as strong as ever, it did little for Clary, who seemed beyond comfort. There was a madness in her eyes that Jace had seen before, most commonly in a deer when he had it cornered, and she kept mouthing wordlessly. Though Jace tried again and again to calm her down, Clary didn't seem to hear him, and he shot an angry look at Jocelyn, who was watching her daughter curiously. It suddenly registered with Jace that Jocelyn probably didn't know the extent of her daughter's torment at Jonathan's hands, and she certainly couldn't begin to imagine how horrible it was. No mother believes their son capable of such things. Still, it didn't stop him from being furious with the woman who brought the news.

"Clary, I know you're upset, and I want you to know, I'm going to help you."

"Because you've been so helpful before," Jace muttered.

Jocelyn narrowed her gaze. "Let me help you, daughter; just come here and-"

"Get away!" Clary snarled so suddenly. "Stay away from me, _Mother_. You didn't help me when I was child, and you certainly can't help me now. Why don't you make yourself useful and go play with the Clave?"

Jocelyn seemed unperturbed by Clary's outburst and she came forward, offering her open arms to Clary. "I know you haven't forgiven me for leaving, but I had no choice, you see. You're father was going to know soon what I'd done, and back then I didn't even know this place existed. I couldn't condone bringing my children with me into the wild."

"So you left me to the dogs," Clary hissed back, turning to face her, while still wrapped in Jace's arms. She knew Jace would stop her before she lunged at her mother. "You have no idea what you did."

"I did everything in my power to protect you. I told Magnus to stay and guard you, I sent Luke back to keep an eye on you. I can't change the past, but believe me, I did all I could."

"Then you're pathetic," Clary said simply. "You're attempts, your love, all of it. The only people who ever cared for me were the damn doctor and the dog. If Jace hadn't come along when he did, I'd have killed myself."

This time, Jocelyn did frown, sensing something much deeper than Clary's resentment over her abandonment. "Let me make it up to you."

"To hell with you!" Clary cried passionately. "Be gone from me. All my life, you've either left me alone, or come bearing bad news. You're nothing but a herald of despair. Leave me to my thoughts and my fears." Jocelyn opened her mouth to speak, but Clary cut her off. "If you love me, you will leave me."

Jace felt Clary slump uselessly against him, and he knew whatever life had woken in her was gone now. He helped her to the bed and sat her down in it, then proceeded to dig out his cloak and wrap her in it. He took her chin in his hands and held her gaze up to his. "I will be back here in five minutes, do you hear me? Not a minute more, and once I'm back, I'm not leaving."

Clary looked up from the folds of the cloak, her hand snatching up his. "Please don't go."

"Five minutes," Jace said, kissing her delicately, and then marched Jocelyn out of the room, closing the door with a snap.

Jocelyn turned to face Jace but he was already watching her, no kindness or forgiveness in his gaze. "My daughter will be summoned before the Clave. Believe me, Jace, I have tried to convince them otherwise, but they will want her-"

"Tell the Clave if they come knocking here again, I will not hesitate to defend my wife." Jace pointed at the door. "You have _no idea _what you're doing to that girl, but, fortunately, I do. I will not send her to the Clave, I will not allow her to be taken there, and if they tell me I don't have the authority to make that decision, I will take Clary and we will leave. I don't know where, I hardly care; we'll go as far away from this miserable little city as we can and never look back. Clary _is not _going to speak."

"You can't protect her from everything," Jocelyn said softly, sensing just how deep Jace's love for Clary was, and how honorable his intensions were.

"At least, unlike you, I can protect her something." Jace saw a dart of pain pass through her eyes. "Don't come back here, Jocelyn, not until you understand what you did."

"What _I _did?"

Jace's smile was sharp as a razor. "Perhaps you ought to catch up with Magnus. I think he's not telling you something." When Jocelyn tried to speak, Jace raised his hand. "I can't abide by this anymore, I just can't. Tell the Clave I'm being unreasonable, tell the Clave I'm holding your daughter hostage, I don't care. They'll have to pry her from dead arms before she goes before them again. Now, I'm going to go tend to my wife, since no one else will."

Jace turned and opened the door, but Jocelyn's hand shot out, taking his arm. "I'm not angry with you, Jace. You're a good man, protecting my daughter, and so much like your father, but please, I _love _Clary. What have I done to earn her hatred?" When Jace began to tell her off, she shook her head thoughtlessly and then reached for the stele at her belt. "Forget it, I'll speak with Bane. For now, I implore you, give her this. It was mine as a child, the only thing I have left of my family, passed down through generations. I want her to have it, I want her to know I love her."

Though Jace considered turning the knife away, he took it, understanding the value of such a blade. "I'll get it to her," was all he said before leaving Jocelyn to find Magnus.

"Is she gone?" Clary asked in a dead voice from the bed. "Have I finally driven her away for good?"

"I think not," Jace said and showed her the stele. "She wants you to have this. To know she loves you."

Clary studied the blade with blank eyes. "If the Clave comes for me, I'll slit my wrists with it."

Jace snapped the blade back with speed Clary only wished she had. "The Clave isn't coming for you, I've already threatened to leave if they come. You're going to stay here with me, and I'm going to stay here with you."

"What about your job?"

"I'm sure it'll be waiting for me when I get back," laughed Jace, and settled himself next to Clary on the bed, enveloping her in his arms. "You need sleep, little one. Go to bed, I'm not going anywhere; I'll be here when you wake."

Clary turned against him, pressing herself so hard into his side, Jace thought she was trying to stick herself there. "What are we going to do, Jace? He'll burn this world down just looking for me."

"He'll have to get through me first," Jace said with iron in his voice. "Don't think about it, Clary, just sleep."

Much later, there was a gentle tapping at the door, and Jace carefully removed himself from the bed to see who it was. "Ah, Magnus, has the Clave sent you?"

Magnus's face was dark. "I've just heard the news about Jonathan, and when Jocelyn came running to me, babbling about Clary having a nervous breakdown, I knew I'd be needed." Magnus laughed darkly to himself. "I left her standing on the stump, actually, since I portaled here."

"Yes or no?" Jace said simply. "If you're here on behalf of the Clave, I can't let you in."

"I've come for Clary, not the Clave." Magnus said, seeing Clary's troubled form over Jace's shoulder. "I've brought a sleeping potion Alec mentioned, as well as an intriguing idea, if you're interested in hearing."

Jace moved aside, ushering him into the dark room. "Something to stump the Clave, I hope."

Magnus turned his serious look on Jace as he shut the door. "The Clave practically forced me into service for them after the Uprising, took me away from my business, my friends, and my home. I have no love for the Clave, so, yes, causing no end of trouble for them is always at the top priority on my list."


	2. Returned To Life

Returned to Life

"This smells awful," said Clary, scrunching her nose at the sour smell of the potion Magnus had put before her. It was an unappealing grey color with bits of black, and when she swirled it, the color darkened. "What's in this?"

"The black is rat droppings," Magnus said flatly, and Clary couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "Not up to your standards, princess?"

Clary shot Magnus a sharp look, but she knew he used the term as an endearment not an honorable address. "Well, I've certainly made some unappetizing things recently, and if Jace can swallow those down, I suppose I can drain this."

"Real life not what you thought it would be?" laughed Magnus. "Drink it, and you'll be out cold for eight hours, guaranteed; and you look like you could use it."

Again, Clary inspected the concoction. "No dreams?"

"Not one," he said.

"After you tell me about the Clave," Clary said and set the glass aside. "I don't want to wake up and find myself marched before them."

Jace was curious himself. "If you can get us out of this one, Magnus, I'll make sure there's a reward in it."

Magnus's smile was catlike, his eyes cunning. "I'm a doctor, you know. So, if I tell them, Clary is no longer in the proper mental condition to go blabbing about Jonathan and Valentine, they'll have to listen."

"Mental condition? I'm not crazy," said Clary angrily.

"Never said you were, just that you're under severe mental stress, and if they push you anymore you could go crazy. The Clave can't risk having their best source of information break down. Especially not now that Jonathan has taken the throne."

"What will I have to do?" Clary asked, deciding being crazy was better than another trip down memory lane.

Magnus shrugged. "You'll have to recover, of course. I'll recommend that you take up some physical exercise, take fresh air, meditate and relax. You like to read, yes?"

"Of course, why?"

"I'll have some books brought around. I know you love to paint, so we'll have to get you supplies for that as well." Magnus considered Clary carefully; she really did look severely distressed. Her face was as pale as snow, her eyes terrified and glazed. Her movements were sharp and erratic, and when she spoke, it was fast and harsh. _Perhaps I'm not far from the mark,_ Magnus thought to himself.

"What if the Clave still wants me?" she asked, the desperation poorly hidden.

"They can't," answered Magnus simply. "I promise you, Clary. They won't call you if they think you're going to break. Besides, your mother thinks you were having a nervous breakdown as it is. She'll have no choice but to agree with me."

Again, Clary looked down at the drink in her hand, and then carefully she looked up to Jace. He was sitting at the end of the bed, his hand resting gently on her ankle. When he caught her eye he squeezed her tighter. "You think it's going to work?"

"I think we should try," he said earnestly. "What's the worst that can happen? If they try to call you before them anyway, I'll take you away from here. We'll go away, far away. There are places we can go to, country sides we can make a home in, cities that not even Jonathan can reach."

The thought of travelling, of going even farther than this place, seemed to brighten Clary, and she smiled wistfully. "I've heard of places, I've heard of lands with strange names like England or France, or even Spain." Clary thought back to her childhood as she learned the lay of land, and she remembered maps with grey borders. Her father hadn't given much thought to the other countries, and had glazed over her education. Now, she was intrigued.

"Yes, and we'll go there, we'll go to all of them," assured Jace. "For now, put some faith in Magnus and I and drink the potion. You need to sleep, love."

Clary offered up as brave a smile as she could and drained the drink. The foul appearance of the drink had been truly deceiving, since the drink tasted like warm milk and honey and some herb Clary couldn't place. It settled in her belly and sent warm spikes through her body, lulling her into a sense of peace in minutes. She felt her eyes droop, and suddenly, the bed was the best place in entire world. She sank down into the blankets and the moment her head touched the pillow, she had slipped away.

Magnus checked her. "She'll be out for the rest of the day. I'll leave another dose here, but you'll have to heat it up if you want it taste good."

Jace tucked Clary's body into the blankets. "Thank you, Magnus," Jace said, meaning it. "Thank you for talking to the Clave."

"It seems to be the least I can do."

"That's not true," said Jace at once. "You stayed with Clary at the palace even though it put you in clear danger."

"I didn't help her, though, and I certainly could have," Magnus said ruefully. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. Don't let her go out and about, I'd be worried the Clave might be watching her."

Jace frowned but nodded consent. _I thought we were supposed to be safe here, and instead they're watching us? _

It was quiet for a long time, and Jace had nothing to do with his time but read the few books he had Clary had borrowed since arriving. _The Iliad _and _The Odyssey _were well worn, and Jace knew the stores too well, but he opened them anyway and settled in. While he read, Clary slept, barely moving, and though she was much more peaceful, Jace thought she also seemed dead. Before, when Jace had slept beside her, there had been the undeniable presence of someone there, there had been a beating heart and a wakeful mind. Now, there was something akin to a shell. Clary's body was there but she was far away from him.

_It's for her own good, _Jace reminded himself. _She needs to sleep, she needs to rest, and if this is the only way to get it, let her. You can't have her all the time._ Jace finished his books, and with nothing better to do, put out the candles and joined Clary in sleep.

It was a sharp tapping on the door that woke Jace the next day, and he started, first glancing to Clary to see if she had woken. Clary, however, was still as ever, not even stirring when he brushed his knuckles across her face. Tiredly, Jace went to the door and was greeted by a very excited looking Max.

"Jace!" the boy crowed, bounding into the room.

"Max, what have I told you-" Isabelle said sharply, but Jace waved his hand.

"I told you it was okay, Izzy," Max said, rolling his eyes, and then smiling brightly, turned to Jace. "Izzy told me you're going to teach me how to use a sword!"

"So I did," agreed Jace seriously, and then he drew a chair out for Isabelle. "Unfortunately, Clary is a little indisposed right now, Isabelle, and there is no one for you to gossip with."

"I don't gossip!" Isabelle said angrily, and Jace thought that maybe Isabelle was going to whack him. It made him smile. "Anyway, what's wrong with Clary?"

"Sleeping," Jace said mildly, pointing to the prone figure on the bed. "If you can call it that."

Max, who had been staring at Clary suddenly turned back to Jace. "She looks like the Sleeping Beauty."

"Who?" asked Jace curiously.

"Sleeping Beauty," Max said as if this should be general knowledge. "Didn't you ever hear the story of Sleeping Beauty?"

Jace laughed at Max's indignation. "No."

"Well," Max sniffed. "You can't have had a proper education then."

"Max!" Isabelle said at once, but Jace just kept laughing.

"He's right, _Izzy_," Jace said using Max's name for her. "Whatever my father taught me was nothing compared to the lore of farmers and countrymen."

"Sometimes I think this boy is going to get us in trouble," sighed Isabelle. "Why is Clary still asleep?"

"Magnus's potion knocked her out cold, it's been this way for hours," said Jace a little worriedly. "I can't imagine it's good for her."

"Probably not," agreed Isabelle. "But she'll be all the better for it after a few days. That does explain, however, why Magnus sent these books along for you. He said Clary might like to read."

"That's very gracious," said Jace.

"And we're not playing," said Max seriously.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow but went to collect the dishes and scrub them clean. As she watched, Jace dug around in the chest and removed two small blades. He held them out for Max to see, displaying the wicked edge and the sturdy handle. Max's eyes glowed at the sight of the point, and he held out his hands expectantly. Jace, however, spun the blade quickly away.

"You shouldn't be so eager to take up arms, Max," he said with a serious face. "There is an honor code, you know. Once you accept your role as a warrior you are bound to protect. If ever you are called upon, if ever there is war, if the common people are even in danger, you _must _rise in their defense."

Max's face was solemn. "Of course I would."

"It's not an easy life," Jace said again, recalling the words of his father. "Your life will always go before the lives of others."

"I want to be a warrior," was all Max said, and Isabelle leaned closer, wondering if Jace was going to accept that. Part of her wanted to stop Max from taking such oaths, but she knew it was pointless to stop a boy from running off to war. Again, she felt a pang of longing; it wasn't fair that her brothers could take up arms but she was bound to the hearth. She thought she was fierce.

"Then you will be," said Jace, and then a smile lit his face. "But not till after many years and much practice and play."

For the next few hours, Isabelle watched as Max learned to hold a blade and twist his wrist in an intricate maneuver. For such a small boy, Isabelle thought it was rather impressive that he could look so grown. Jace directed Max carefully, showing him a few defensive stances and how to parry a few blows, but, though Max begged Jace to show him more, he refused as Clary was struggling out of a long sleep.

"Where are we?" Clary asked the room in general, thinking she was back in palace with Isabelle.

"In our room," Jace said gently, smiling at her confusion. "You remember, yes, how I put you to bed and Magnus gave you a drink? You're just waking up is all."

"It tasted like honey and milk," Clary said dreamily. She reached out a hand and ran it through Jace's golden hair. "You're all gold, you're all milk and honey." She giggled softly to herself. "A milk and honey angel."

"Yes, Clary, I am," Jace said, trying, and failing to keep the smile from his face.

Clary's hand shot out and dragged him down to her. "Do you taste like milk and honey?" she asked, and then pressed her lip against his while Isabelle and Max looked on. Jace felt a blush rise in his cheeks, but Clary just continued to kiss him as if no one cared. Max giggled to himself and Isabelle smiled coyly.

"It's very nice seeing you too, Clary," said Jace uncertainly. "Do you think you're up for something to eat? Or perhaps you'd like to read something? Magnus has sent us some books for you."

Clary blinked slowly. "Read to me," she ordered imperiously.

"Good morning, princess," said Isabelle loudly from her place by the fire.

"Isabelle, what are you doing here?"

"You invited me, and, since you were asleep, I saw to the washing and cleaning while the boys played with swords." Isabelle stood and signaled Max over to her. "We'll go, though, since you seem tired."

"Play with swords?" asked Clary, not listening for an answer. "Why should they play with swords? I'll teach you Isabelle, because you're a woman, and a proper woman should know her way around a sword. That's what my father used to say. Do you want to learn?"

Isabelle blanched, her heart leaping at the chance. "Yes, of course I want to learn."

"As soon as I'm on my feet," Clary murmured weakly, nodding to Jace. "You'll keep me to my word, won't you, Jace?"

Though he knew it was a cruel trick to play, Jace couldn't let this opportunity slide past him. "Better to swear on the Angel, I think."

"On the Angel then," agreed Clary thoughtlessly. "I'll train Isabelle to fight, on the Angel."

"Shadowhunters don't break oaths they make on the Angel," Jace said to Isabelle. "It is binding."

"I'm honored," Isabelle said a little breathlessly. "I've always wanted to learn to fight."

"You will," murmured Clary. "Jace, read me a story."

Jace raised his eyebrow but Isabelle just laughed to herself and had to drag Max away. Jace returned his attention to Clary and offered her the books Isabelle had brought. "And what would you like to hear, little wife? Magnus had sent along some wonderful titles."

Clary plucked the books and spread them out before her. "What have we here? _The Tempest? The Bacchae? In Defense of Socrates? A Midsummer Night's Dream?_ How simply lovely. This one," Clary said, pointing to _The Tempest_.

Jace took the book and brushed off the dust on the cover; it must have sat a long time in Magnus's collection. "I want you to eat soon," warned Jace before he opened the book and began to read.

Clary was managed to draw herself to from her stupor, and she listened as Jace read. When he reached the midpoint of the story, Jace paused and glanced at Clary, who was watching him with sharp eyes. It seemed the last vestiges of the sleeping potion were fading away. When she caught him looking at her, Clary smiled brilliantly and placed her fingers between the pages of the book.

"I'd like something to eat," she mumbled quietly.

Given Clary's recent disinterest in food, he brightened at once. "What do you want? Bread? Meat? Cheese? We have some excellent chicken left over that I could mix it into a soup for you-"

"Soup?" Clary's eyes glittered. "Soup and bread."

Jace rose and went about preparing the broth, as he did, he spoke. "You know you promised to teach Isabelle how to fight."

Clary raised an eyebrow. "Did I?"

"Yes, swore it on the Angel, actually. Very noble of you, I thought." Jace watched the water bubble, carefully keeping his eyes off Clary's face.

"That's a nasty little trick," Clary said simply, but Jace could tell she wasn't angry with him. "You let me do it on purpose."

"I would never," Jace said proudly. "You were simply adamant that she must learn, so I obliged you."

"You just want me up and about and out of this house," pointed out Clary.

"Is there something wrong with a husband who wants to flaunt his finest possessions?" Jace finally turned to Clary, and his smile was seductive.

Clary felt her lips turn up at the corners. "Well, when you put it so eloquently…"

"I was always a man good with words," Jace pointed out. "Come, Clary, it's been almost four months since you held a blade. It will do you good I think."

Clary was silent while Jace prepared the soup and brought it to her. He spooned out some of it and held up to her, but Clary snatched the spoon and bowl away. "Don't baby me; what type of warrior will I prove if it gets out that my husband feeds me?"

* * *

Magnus's announcement to Clave was met with general disagreement, but the warlock was firm in his diagnosis, and refused point-blank to allow Clary to go once more before them. Jocelyn proved to be an excellent witness, pleading her daughter's case, citing the nervous breakdown as sure evidence that Clary needed rest. Luke also proved rather useful, able to recount the many hardships, though, as Magnus and Clary had done, avoiding the sexual assaults, Clary had faced while living under her father, and stated firmly that he could no longer condone the torture and torment of a young girl. He threatened the Clave with withdrawing his pack, and the Clave couldn't risk losing Luke's pack; they were too great in number, and too well trained. In the end, the Clave had to bow to Magnus's demands, with only the request that once Clary was again sound of mind that she would come back and speak. It seemed for the moment, the Clave could not act, and it was putting the shadowhunter community on edge.

Once she knew she was free of the Clave's influence, Clary found herself more open to the idea of exploring the secret city. On the second morning after she'd taken the potion, Clary awoke and asked that Jace might show her the city. A smile broke out all his face and Clary felt the warmth from it radiate toward her. Clary dug through the chest of clothing and found pants and a loose shirt like she saw her mother wearing; when she turned to Jace to see how he'd take the change in attire, he tilted his head, eyes glowing.

"You look stunning," he said simply, and took her hands in his. "You look like a proper shadowhunter now, like you were born to be."

Clary glanced down at herself and felt almost naked without the layers and layers of skirts, and she found she liked it. "Come, take me about, husband." Jace led Clary from their home and into the throbbing center of the City of Glass.

The long stretch of hall where the living quarters were located was lit only by glowing witchlights, hidden in lamps that doubled their green glow. Clary clung to Jace, her eyes very unaccustomed to the minimal light, and she found herself stumbling a bit more than usual. Jace chuckled a little to himself, but allowed her to take his arm and better balance herself. Finally, Clary caught the glimpse of a light ahead and when they reached it, she gasped in pleasure. There was a sharp drop down at least six stories, each storied honeycombed with entrances from living quarters, and in the base was the city proper. From her vantage point, Clary could look down on a bustling city and see store fronts and stables, roads and pubs, and even a school and stunning library. Above, where there should have been the sun was thousands of witchlights sprinkled like stars that cast a green glow on the subterranean world.

_So much beauty, and all of hidden beneath the dirt…and all because of my father, _Clary thought bitterly, and felt guilt wash over her that she hadn't felt in years. For so long, she had been able to convince herself that her father's crimes were not her own, but she doubted the people who had made their homes here would ever agree to that. She was a Morgenstern. _No, you're not. You're a Herondale now. Clarissa Herondale, wife of Jace Herondale. _

It was a small shred of hope, but she clung to it anyway.

"Would you like me to show you about? There are so many stores you haven't explored, and not a few bad places to get a drink. Even dancing in the city circle at night." Jace was looking at her expectantly.

"I'd like that," said Clary decidedly, and Jace led her away.

Once they reached the ground floor, Clary was flooded with sights and sounds she had absconded from since her arrival. There were people everywhere, and very strange people they were, too. Not just shadowhunters who had fled the slaughter, but humans who had refused Valentine's lordship, and, of course, the Downworlders. Clary had never seen so many werewolves, vampires, witches, warlocks, fairies and the like in one place. She saw children running about, little boys and girls in pants and tunics, not the ridiculous dresses she'd worn since her childhood, play fighting with wooden swords or fangs or stinted claws, or whatever other appendages they had. She saw men _and _women in training gear; though she had known women were permitted to fight, when she saw the physical manifestation, it still surprised her. There were serious looking people in robes who were hurrying in and out of a large library, and a school where Clary caught a glimpse of children practicing with swords under the careful tutelage of hawk-eyed instructors.

But it was more than the people; it was the sounds and the smells, too. In the castle, there had been music played on delicate instruments, strummed under trembling fingers, but here there was every kind of instrument to be found, playing every type of song one could want. Bawdy tunes about lovely women, hunting songs, dancing songs that sounded like they belonged on a farm, and a few stray lines of chants young shadowhunters learned. Scents mingled in the air, food and sweat and life. All of it painting an image of a life, a _real _life, not the life she had led since her childhood, but one of throbbing, vital emotion. It made Clary's blood sing.

When Jace pulled her to a stop beside a small bookstore, Clary dug her heels in. "Jace, no, please, I want to keep going."

"You'll like what I have to show you," he promised, and nodded to sign. It was a book store.

When Jace bowed Clary through the door, she was met with the musty smell of old books and the promising thought of the stories they held. However, she was also met with a very familiar face. "Maia!" Clary cried.

"Look who finally shows her face," Maia said sternly, but her smile was kind. She rushed around the counter where she had been slouched and wrapped Clary in her arms. "Look at you, girl. You look on the edge of death; where have they been keeping you?"

"Unfortunately, I've been keeping myself," Clary said ruefully.

Maia simply nodded in understanding. "It's not been an easy life, has it?" She didn't wait for Clary to answer, just gave her a warm squeeze. "Well, since you're here, I might as well help you find what you need. Luke said if you ever showed up, you're to take what you want, when you want."

"Luke?" Clary asked, having forgotten about the werewolf.

"This is his book store," Maia said with a wave. "When he's not being marched back and forth by the Clave, he's here. Or over with the pack at the tavern. Though, I'm beginning to see him less and less there, and more and more at that tea store where your mother frequents."

Clary's face darkened at the mention of her mother. "Can't imagine why."

"Well, Jocelyn is beautiful and Luke is handsome, plus, they've known each other a long time." Maia shrugged, turning to the bookshelves. "Plus, I mean, Jocelyn did leave Valentine to help protect Luke, so maybe there's something to it."

Clary shared a surprised glance with Jace, but quickly quashed any warmth she might have felt for her mother. If anything, she was angrier. Luke was _her _friend, not Jocelyn's, Luke had been protecting _her_, not her mother. Jocelyn had no right to take the man that had been looking after her all her life. _If it weren't for the wolf coat he'd almost be a father, _Clary thought, then gasped at the realization.

"So, what did you feel like reading?" Maia asked as she perused the aisles. "Luke picked up quite a collection, plus, I think he's been stealing from the palace. Do you want a dangerous quest? Or a love story? Or maybe something funny to keep you laughing?"

"Perhaps a little of it all?" offered Clary hopelessly, hearing Jace's laughter behind her.

"A little of everything, eh?" Maia said, eyeing her closely. "I think we've got just that too." She vanished into the shelves and returned not two minutes later with a large, dusty volume decorated with a very beautiful and intricate cover of a small caravan of men and women of all status. "Ever heard it?"

"_The Canterbury Tales_? It looks old," Clary said, opening the cover carefully.

"The original manuscript was made in the 14th century, I think, but this can't be that old. Anyway, it's what you're looking for, twenty some-odd tales of everything from love to danger to quests to comedy to truth to hate. You couldn't ask for a better thing." Maia peeked outside. "How long will you be in the city circle? Once they darken the lamps I'm closing up, and I wouldn't say no to a meal with you; got a lot of catching up to do."

Now that she was here, Clary couldn't dream of being anywhere else. "I want to stay," she said at once to Jace, who shrugged helplessly. "There's so much I haven't see yet, and I want to find Isabelle and Max when he gets out of school."

"Well, then, come find me when the lamps are turned down and we'll all meet for a drink, yes?" said Maia. "Go out, Clary, have Jace show you about, you deserve a respite from it all."

"Thank you, again," Clary said, waving the book around but Maia just waved her off.

After the bookstore, Jace led Clary deeper into the winding city streets, past many storefronts where she hung back. At a few of them, she ventured inside, smiling politely and plucking small things from the shelves to inspect closer. Jace always offered to get her whatever she picked up, be it colored fabric, small trinkets, books, household objects, but she simply placed them back with a faint smile and a nod no.

Jace, who kept checking the glow of the witchlights finally tugged Clary's arm gently to draw her attention from a cartographer's shop. "The school lets out soon, if you wanted to meet Max and Isabelle."

"Yes, of course," Clary said at once. "How do you keep track of the time?"

"Hm? Oh, the witchlights burn down every day, marking the hours as they pass. It's a simple trick," said Jace and took Clary down a tight alley that let out in the city circle where the school was located. "Now, where are those Lightwoods?"

It took maybe five minutes to find Isabelle's tall figure, holding the hand of a very anxious Max. He was talking quickly and Isabelle was nodding, pointedly ignoring the look one of the male instructors was giving her. A smile curled Clary's lips at the sight; Isabelle, though in a worn tunic and leggings, cut a stunning figure. Those work dresses she had been forced to wear had done her poor justice, and Clary had no doubt that had she been allowed the gowns and bodices she had, Isabelle would have had the court in a fever for her.

"Jace!" Max cried when he spotted the two lingering a little ways away. "Izzy, look, it's Jace and Clary!"

Max's cry had drawn the attention of a number of children and parents, and there was a collective pause while they all studied the two shadowhunters. Jace, who wore his runes openly, was immediately marked as a shadowhunter, and the wicked blade at his hip as one of the Rangers. Clary, who had the faint tracing of runes, was less noticeable, but marked for her delicate beauty.

"Hey, kid," Jace said as Max pelted into Jace. Clary waved at Isabelle who rushed over to stop Max from annoying Jace.

"What are you doing here?" Isabelle asked, though she seemed pleased.

"I felt like going out today," was all Clary said, inspecting the three boys who were running up to meet Jace.

"Max," the first boy called, stumbling to a halt before Jace. He eyed Jace's runes, looking impressed. "Is he a _Ranger_?"

"He is," answered Jace lazily.

The other two boys pushed forward, but Max crossed his arms. "I _told_ you I knew a Ranger. Jace and I came here from Idris, _and _I saw Jonathan, _and _I rode a werewolf, _and _I know Magnus Bane, _and _Jace is teaching me to fight. They didn't believe me," he added to Jace, who had to fight back a smile.

"It's the truth," he said to the boys who stared with open mouths. "Max and I go back a long way."

Clary giggled, drawing the attention of the boys. They were about to ask who she was when a woman, clearly a shadowhunter, rushed up to join them. "Thomas," said the woman to the first boy, "don't go running off. I'm sorry, I try to keep track of him, but he only listens to his mother…" the woman trailed off as she noticed Jace. Clary felt a pang of annoyance. Was this how it had been while she'd been hidden? "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Jace straightened up. "Jace Herondale," he said politely. "I'm a friend of the Lightwoods."

"Oh," said the woman, spying Isabelle, and then taking notice of Clary. "And who are you?" she asked carefully.

"This is Clarissa," Jace answered, taking her hand and drawing her forward. "Clarissa Herondale, my wife."

The woman's face fell a bit, but then lit with recognition. "But you're Valentine Morgenstern's daughter?"

Clary bit her tongue. "Yes, but-"

"No, she's my wife, and has had very little to do with Valentine in a long while," Jace said firmly.

"I had heard you had come, but no one has seen you, though the rumors around the Clave are always leaking," laughed the woman. "Scouting out the schools for a child, are you?"

"What?" Clary asked.

"No," Jace said sharply. "No, nothing like that."

Clary heard Isabelle laugh beside her. "I haven't seen the city proper and was curious. It's a marvelous school, don't you think?"

"The education is prime, I'm a student here, but sometimes I think a change in instruction could benefit the students. I think they have their favorites," she said a little darkly.

"Where do the teachers come from?" asked Clary.

"All ranks of the Clave, though the upper classes are taught mainly by Rangers." The woman looked over her shoulder and saw a friend waving. "Well, it's been a pleasure, but my brother and I must be on our way."

"Do you teach?" Clary asked Jace.

"No," he said. "My blade is too valued in the field, so they let me skip out on it. Why?"

Clary shrugged. "No reason."

"So, what brings you here today?" Isabelle asked as they set off.

"Looking for you," Clary answered. "Jace and I, and Maia are meeting for a drink, perhaps you'd like to join us?"

Isabelle's face brightened. "Yes, let's."

The small group stopped by the bookshop and found Maia waiting. From there, she led them to a tavern that claimed a spot on the city circle. They settled at a table outside, just as musicians arrived and began strumming cords. Clary sat, swinging her feet like a little girl, watching the musicians play and couples dance. The taste of the wine she was drinking was sweet on her lips, and there was a pleasant breeze in the air.

"The city suits you," Isabelle commented. "You look happier than I've seen you in a long time."

Clary smiled wistfully. "It's beautiful here. I feel like I want to find my paints and just plop down by the fountain for a day. It's been so long since I've painted anything."

Jace took her hand. "Do you want to dance?" he asked gently. It had been months since Jace had danced with Clary, and even then, it had been a poor excuse of dancing. The court was too strict for Jace's tastes. "They play all night."

"Yes," said Clary after a beat, jumping to her feet.

Isabelle and Maia laughed, but Jace led Clary out and into the steps of the dance. There were many more people about than Clary had originally thought, and felt the eyes of countless people resting on her. Anxiety rushed up her throat, and Clary clung a little closer to Jace than she meant, but he liked it. The witchlights above were like twinkling stars, and Clary thought she had entered some world of magic and wonder, and she let her head back and felt her hair whip about. When one song ended, another, more fast paced song took its place.

"I've never danced to this before," Clary said uncertainly as she watched Isabelle, Max, and Maia join the dancers. It was something that would never have been deemed proper in the court, and fit more in a stable dance. "I don't know how!"

Jace chuckled darkly in her ear. "Too bad, little wife, because I like this dance, and the idea of you tripping over your feet into my arms is too sweet a thought."

"Jace!" Clary cried, but she let him pull her away.

Much later, Jace, Clary, Isabelle and Max made their way back to their homes. Maia had vanished somewhere else, mentioning the pack's home, and the four made a pleasant picture. Eventually, Isabelle and Max turned away, and Clary and Jace arrived at their home. Clary tossed herself down onto the bed, her feet pleasantly tired and her mind alive with the sights she had seen. She had been cooped up too long, she knew that now, and the idea of staying indoors another day was not bearable. While Jace washed she thought over all she had seen, and when he joined her that night, she rolled on her side to face him.

"I want to volunteer for the Rangers," she said and watched his face split into a grin. "Also, I want to teach at the school."

Jace cupped Clary's face in his hands and kissed her. "Anything you want."


	3. A Forgotten Lord

**Hello Everyone! If any of you read my profile, you've probably noticed that I'm a huge fan of Doctor Who. I've decided to begin another fanfiction, this time a crossover between the Mortal Instruments and Doctor Who, in honor of the release of the new half of season 7. The chapters will most likely be shorter than these, and I'm aiming for a single story, no sequels or anything like that, but I'm really excited to try my hand at such a drastic crossover fiction. I'll still be updating this once a week, though, so have no fear. **

A Forgotten Lord

There was a general pause in combat training when Jace Herondale entered the field. He was very popular among the Rangers, prized for his skills, and very popular among the women shadowhunters given his appearance. They had heard the rumor he was married, but as his wife had never made an appearance, many of the women simply considered him unmarried, or at least eligible for flirting. Women vied for a place within his watch, but very few were permitted, as Jace's watch was also one of the most skilled, and ranged the farthest from the city. Still, it didn't stop the women from hoping.

At least until the day Jace arrived with Clary at his side.

Clary had dressed herself in training gear: flexible leggings with a top fitted to hug her frame tightly but allow movement. She cut an imposing figure, hip cocked to the side and a dagger at her belt, as she surveyed the room. She noticed that many pairs had stopped their fighting to survey her in return, and she saw a lot of dislike there. Though Clary didn't know it, she was rather beautiful in her gear, and though she was small, she came off as delicate rather than childish.

"And who is this?" asked one of the trainers of Jace as Clary tied her hair back.

"My wife," answered Jace, gesturing Clary forward. "This is Clarissa Herondale."

A spark of recognition lit the trainer's eyes, and he flicked a gaze over Clary's form. He knew she was Valentine Morgenstern's daughter, he knew the Clave had been all over her since her arrival four months ago, and he knew, given Valentine, that whatever training Clary had was going to be excellent. She smiled up at him, though, and offered him a polite bow.

"I would like to be admitted to your ranks," Clary said, glancing about. "I know I need to pass a proficiency test, but I'm more than prepared."

"Admitted to the Rangers?" asked the man, giving Jace a sharp look. "I can't guarantee you a place with your husband in his watch; that's reserved for our most elite soldiers. However, if you're interested, I will administer the test."

The man drew out a long knife and gestured toward the center of the field. The Rangers formed a circle to give them room, and Jace brushed a kiss on Clary's cheek for good luck. Nervously, Clary drew her blade and practiced a few wrist movements and steps; it had been a while since her last time with a knife. Jace, however, seemed to have no worries about Clary's abilities, and he leaned against the wall to watch.

"Are you ready, girl?" asked the man, circling about her.

"I think so," Clary said, and took a competitive stance. The man took the measure of Clary for a few seconds then lunged into action. Clary parried the blow swiftly and spun away.

Four months off had taken its toll on Clary, but she found her muscles remembered most of what her father had taught her. To the surprise of the trainer, as Clary continued to fight, she became fiercer; her blows were stronger and faster, her technique more refined, her handling of her blade surer. For Clary, as she sparred back and forth with the man, she recalled her days spent with her father. Valentine had not been a gentle instructor, and had believed the best lessons were the ones learned through pain and repetition. When she was learning to fight, Clary would repeat the same exercises over and over until her arms burned and her muscles cramped. If she dropped her blade or lost her stance, though, Valentine would strike swiftly, normally with a whip or the flat of his sword. She had learned quickly that pain followed failure. Now, with every blow the man landed, Clary redoubled her efforts, until her blows were so powerful the man's arm shook when they landed. Clary gradually backed him into a corner of the room, and, sidestepping one of his lunges, dove in for the kill. Her dagger, when she cared to look, was resting at his throat.

Among the crowd there was a spattering of applause; clearly, some had wanted her performance to go badly. The trainer, however, looked happily stunned. "That was excellent, Clarissa, excellent. Where has Jace been keeping you these past months?"

Clary drew back, bowing again. "I've just been busy with the Clave is all. Now, though, I find I have some free time, and would very much like to join your ranks. I take it I'll be permitted?"

"Yes, of course, of course. You're more than welcome to any of the watches, including your husband's. However, we have stringent policy on spousal involvement." He waved Jace over. "You can start as soon as you've been briefed and have filled out a few simple documents for us."

"Well done, love," Jace murmured in Clary's ear, and this time, kissed her neck, feeling her frantic pulse.

"I'm allowed to work with you," Clary answered, taking his hand in hers and leading him after the trainer. "However, I think these kisses of yours will get us into trouble."

"Unfortunately," agreed Jace.

Clary and Jace waited together while the man left to find paperwork for Clary, and were soon greeted by a pair of soldiers, a man and woman, dressed in black, their arms inked in runes. The woman smiled coyly at Jace and the man shook his hand in a friendly manner. When he spotted Clary, his gaze tripped over her form and he wondered where Jace found such beautiful women. Clary caught him looking but ignored it, this wasn't the court, and the man wasn't one of the roguish lords.

"Jace, what are you doing here, I thought it was your day off?" asked the man.

"It is, I'm just stopping by to sign up a new member to our watch." Jace indicated Clary.

"Who's this?" asked the woman, curious and little annoyed that another woman was joining their watch. Thus far, there was only her and one other woman, and she was sure she was the fairer of the two. This girl, though, looked like trouble.

"You can call me Clary," said Clary, holding out her hand.

"Clary?" said the man, turning to her again and then back to Jace. "Ah, so this is Jace's famous wife, eh?"

"Wife?" asked the woman.

Jace grinned broadly. "Yes, this is my sweet little wife, but don't let that fool you, she's quite a vicious monster when she wants to be."

Clary shot him a disparaging look. "I'm sorry we've never met before, but I've been caught up with business from the Clave, and I just haven't had the heart to come down here. I see I've been missing out on some fun."

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it fun, but it gets you out," said the man. "So, you've been working for Clave? I can't imagine that is fun."

"I wouldn't call it work," Clary said with a slight frown. "I've just been sharing a few secrets is all."

"Really?" asked the woman, giving her a long look. "Ah, but you're Valentine's daughter."

Again, they had reached a point Clary didn't want to reach, but figured it was better she get used to it than hide from it. "Which makes me more than capable of being part of the watch."

The man laughed. "I can only imagine. Though how Rosa marked you for Valentine's daughter, I'll never know. You favor your mother."

Since her arrival, all Clary had heard was how she was Valentine's daughter; this man was the first to say otherwise, and she liked him almost at once for it. "Thank you. I don't think I caught your name."

"Sebastian," he said with a quick, lopsided smile.

Clary returned the smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sebastian, and I'm glad we'll be working together."

"And where are you two off to today?" Sebastian asked, sensing Clary's desire to leave. When he checked over his shoulder, he saw many pairs on eyes on them. "To the city proper for some shopping and dancing?"

"No, not really," Clary said, with a faint smile. "I've promised a friend of mine some lessons with a sword on the Angel."

Sebastian whistled. "Lucky friend."

"No," said Clary wistfully, "that's me."

Jace and Clary bid Sebastian and the unhelpful woman farewell, and collected Clary's papers from the trainer. As they went, Clary fingered the knives at her waist and sighed in relief. It felt oddly pleasant to have the weapons at the ready for her. Her thoughts turned to Isabelle and she turned to Jace.

"Is there a place Isabelle and I can practice?" she asked thoughtfully.

Jace considered. "The exit my watch uses lets out in a very protected, enclosed meadow. I can take you and Isabelle there. You should be safe."

"Sounds perfect," Clary agreed. "Will you get in trouble for taking us there?"

"Can't imagine why," shrugged Jace. "But, perhaps, we'll just keep it our little secret anyway. Now, I think we'll find Isabelle in the market place; when she's not harvesting, I think she works the shop front."

Jace led Clary a little away from the city proper and out into the second circle. Clary had discovered that the city, like the one above, was designed like a wheel, main streets in rings, and cross streets like spokes of the wheel. The center of the circle was where she had been the first day, and the food markets formed the second circle. As soon as they were in the second circle, Clary could tell; the enticing scents of fresh fruits and vegetables, mingled with breads and cooking meats left Clary reeling. They passed by men and women shouting their wares from shop fronts and small carts, and narrowly avoided a man pushing a large wheeled cart down the center of the street.

"Here we are," Jace murmured in Clary's ear, pointing to a very large store.

"Isabelle works here?" Clary asked, impressed by both the size and the wide array of what the store sold.

"It's owned by the Clave, not a single person," said Jace. "They can afford to hire hundreds of people." The approached the counter and Jace leaned over it, peering into the room behind. "Where's a capable employee when you need one?"

Clary heard an angry huff and saw a shadow move sharply. Suddenly, Isabelle appeared from the back room, eyes narrowed and a hand already on her hip, but she drew to a sharp stop when she saw it was Jace and Clary at the counter. "You've got some nerve, boy."

"I think it's my most endearing quality," agreed Jace. "When are you off the clock?"

"Five minutes," Isabelle said, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Why, are we going somewhere?"

"Off the grid," Jace replied in an undertone. "We'll wait for you." As they waited, Jace and Clary were surprised to watch a young man swagger into the store and come to the front counter. He waited until Isabelle noticed him and a honey sweet smile spread over his face. Isabelle smiled coyly, and Clary wondered how she managed such a seductive look. They watched as the man spoke to her, smiling toothily, and Isabelle's eyes simmer. He said a few words, inviting her with him, but she smiled again and shook her head sadly. When he pressed her, she told him a firm no, and sent him on his way, but her eyes were still glowing. She caught Clary watching and shrugged playfully.

As soon as Isabelle was relieved from the store she and Clary followed Jace as he led them out farther and farther from the city proper. They reached the stone wall of the city and began to pace the length of it, Isabelle tripping now and then on the hem of her gown. Clary watched her in the dress, again, thinking how it suited Isabelle's curves, but then, she realized Isabelle would probably look impressive in anything and she felt suddenly shapeless and plain.

"Do you have pants Isabelle? It might be more useful for training purposes," said Clary after a moment. "It will be hard to move in a skirt."

Isabelle shrugged. "I think I'll manage to make due; I don't mind pants, but I feel better in a skirt."

Jace finally found the small stairwell that was carved into the stone itself. "This will take us out into the open, but it's a bit of a walk up, so try not to trip on the stairs. Once we're out, I'll check to make sure it's safe, then I'll keep watch while you train. Try not to be too loud; just because my watch isn't out doesn't mean there won't be another one nearby and they might think a fight is going on."

They made their way slowly up to level ground and Jace emerged into the meadow first. He walked the boundaries, listening closely and then returned, drawing Clary and Isabelle out. Clary was blinded the moment she stepped out, not having seen the sun in more than four months. She squinted, holding her hand up and stumbling her first step. Jace reached out and steadied her instinctively, smiling just a little.

"Give your eyes a moment to adjust," he said in her ear. "It's been a little while, I know."

As soon as Clary could open her eyes, she found the meadow they had arrived at very beautiful. Trees formed a natural barrier to the rest of the world, enclosing them in a small field, the tress bare of leaves and the ground covered in a thin layer of snow. There was a distinct chill in the air, and Clary watched her breath fog on the air.

"It's winter?" she asked, confused.

"You've been underground for four months Clary, and it was the middle of fall when we went," Isabelle said. "Haven't you noticed how expensive the vegetables and fruits are becoming?" Clary blinked at her. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have. All we've been able to pick are berries and scrap bark off trees. It's tedious work."

Clary ranged the small meadow, enjoying the crunch of snow beneath her boots. "This will do just fine. We'll just have to be careful not to slip on a slick patch." She drew her two blades and turned to face Isabelle. "Do you know how to handle one of these?"

Isabelle eyed the blade. "Not really."

Clary saw Isabelle's flush and offered her a kind smile. "There's no shame in it, the only shame is in refusing to learn. Come, I'll show you how to hold it."

Jace continued to circle the ring of trees while Clary demonstrated how to hold the knives and how to move from one pose to another. Isabelle, Clary was surprised to see, was very adept to the lessons, and seemed to pick up the steps quickly, despite the dress that should have been confining. Clary thought Isabelle would prove a natural fighter, though she thought the knives were not suited to Isabelle's body. She thought, perhaps, that Isabelle would suit better with something longer, something that would extend her arm.

"You're doing exceptionally well, Isabelle," Clary praised, watching as Isabelle spun about with the knife. "You're a natural."

Isabelle came to a halt in a flurry of skirts. "You think? I've been dying to practice ever since Max started school. It's not fair that I'm not allowed to learn. All because I'm a woman."

Personally, Jace agreed with Isabelle. It seemed pointless that the rebels should refuse anyone who wanted to learn; after all, a soldier was a soldier, but he also understood the chain of command. He knew that if he protested the laws, he could be demoted, so there seemed no reason to speak. However, when Isabelle shot a look his way, he nodded in agreement. Jace sensed Isabelle's growing like of him, and wondered if they weren't becoming like brother and sister.

"Isabelle, it's a changing world," Clary said gently. "Women are being trained as shadowhunters, and I'm sure soon normal women will follow."

"That's _shadowhunters_!" Isabelle cried in frustration. "You're a different class of people, you have different rights, different destinies. I'll always just be some woman looking after her brother and tending a fire. It's not fair!"

Clary, who had spent so long trapped in a court, playing the damsel in distress, understood how Isabelle felt. She hadn't been allowed a weapon, except under the watchful eyes of her father, and even then, it had been nothing more than a teaching utensil. "Just give it time, Isabelle, and things will change. Look at me, I spent my life in that court, and then, out of nowhere, you arrived, and Jace and Alec and Max, and now I'm here. You're time will come."

Isabelle gave Clary a disparaging look, but slowly, it turned a little brighter. "Come, show me how two real warriors fight. Let's see you and Jace go at it."

This drew Clary up short. "Jace and I fight?"

"Well, yes, how else am I supposed to see what I'm striving for?" Isabelle cocked a hip. "I'm sure you can handle each other. You're in the same watch, aren't you?"

"Yes, but…"Clary warbled off. Though she knew she was an accomplished fighter, the idea of fighting Jace was distasteful in both the sense that he was undoubtedly better with a blade, and that she loved him. To summon the fury she would need to lash out at Jace was, she thought, beyond her. Her eyes moved to Jace, who was watching her with the same look; he was thinking much the same.

"Oh, don't be children," Isabelle moaned. "It's not like I'm asking for a fight to the death. Just a little display of technique. Come on, have a go."

Jace was the first the break the stare, and he rose to his feet with all the grace of a lion prowling. "I suppose it won't hurt, and I'd like to see what I got myself married to."

"I think you know exactly what you're married to," Clary snapped.

"I've found the way a person fights speaks very much to their character," Jace murmured, "besides, I like the idea of a little roughhousing."

Clary rolled her eyes, but took the other knife from Isabelle and turned to face off with Jace. He was already holding a long, wicked knife, and he was walking about her, measuring her up as he went. Clary seemed small, but he got the impression that she'd be fast and lithe. He twirled the knife once and gave her a mocking bow, when he came up, Clary had already moved. When he blinked again, she rushed into his side. Jace fell and rolled and jumped up, his blade out, but Clary had already moved. Jace realized that Clary's style was to strike fast and then run. He'd have to chase her down.

"Nice work," Isabelle called from where she was seated.

Jace shot her a very dark look just in time to see the small figure that was Clary shoot toward him. The moment she was within distance of his arm, Jace's hand shot out and clamped down on her wrist. Clary felt the pressure as a shock, and tried to pull back, but Jace spun her around a circle, locking her knives with his blade. She tried to tug her arm out of his grasp, but Jace pulled her into him, tipping her forward over his arm.

"Jace!" Clary cried, doubled over his arm. "Let me go."

"Hmm," Jace hummed, considering her request. "It's tempting, but since I've won, I think I deserve a reward of some sort. What do you think is fair?"

"At least let me stand up," grumbled Clary.

"No," Jace chuckled. "If I let you up, you'll attack me, and then I'll have to let you go, and then I won't get my reward. Which," Jace added, "I've decided on. I think you owe me a kiss. One kiss, at my leisure, here and now."

"I should have seen that coming," Clary growled, and stuck her tongue out at Isabelle. "This is all your fault, you know."

Isabelle looked away delicately. "I can't imagine what you mean."

"Oh, all right," Clary huffed, trying to shift her weight onto her feet. "Let me up and I'll kiss you're stupid face."

"Stupid face? Is that the best you can do?" Jace smiled, giving Clary enough freedom of movement to stand up in the circle of his arms. "I would have thought you'd be a bit more on your toes when it comes to wordplay."

"You want the kiss or not?" Clary shot back, and just closed his mouth in a wicked grin. "Pucker up."

Clary stood on her tip toes so she could reach Jace's lips, and was about to place a very sweet kiss on them, when she heard a cry of rage and Jace was torn from her grip. Clary fell back into the snow and she heard the struggle that was ensuring by her feet. Isabelle was screaming, whether in shock or fear, Clary couldn't tell. She sat up, feeling at once for her knives, but found that was going to be pointless. Jace managed to pin the attacker down, but he was a confused as Clary.

"Don't you touch her!" the man under Jace yelled. "You're as bad as those filthy men in the court."

But it was Clary who found her voice first. "_Simon_?"

* * *

A while later, Clary was still shocked to find her childhood friend standing before her, grumbling under his breath at her husband. She didn't understand how he could have somehow navigated his way here when she hadn't spoken to him in months, nor did she understand why he was there. It seemed as if Simon had simply emerged from the past, bringing with him the bitter memories she had tried so hard to ignore. She was grateful for the stump beneath her to keep her knees from giving out.

"So, Clary, would you care to tell me who it is that attacked me?" Jace asked tensely from where he stood behind her. She felt his hand on her on the back of her neck as reassuring pressure. He wasn't angry, Clary realized he would never be angry with her, but he was just concerned.

"This is Simon Lewis," Clary said stiltedly, shooting him a look from under her lashes. "He was my best friend when I was a girl. The Lord Lewis sits in the House of Lords."

"He did," Simon said darkly, but Jace waved him away.

"So, Lewis…" Jace said, swirling the name around his head. "That name is familiar to me. Why is that?" he asked Clary swiftly. "Why do I know the name Lewis?"

"Leave her be, you rogue," Simon snarled. "Who do you think you are, handling her like that? _Kissing _her?" He looked more furious than Clary had ever seen.

Jace seemed to find Simon's rage highly amusing, and he let both his hands slip down, over her shoulders, wrap about the delicate collar bone, and stroke the skin bared at her throat and the top of her chest. "Weak human sensibilities?" Clary tried to lean away, but Jace's close proximity didn't leave her with many options.

"Clary!" Simon cried, shocked that the young woman he had known let some man touch her like that, regardless of how handsome the man was. "What have you done to her?"

Jace smirked and kissed Clary's cheek, since she had turned her face from his in annoyance. "I've married her."

Simon, who had been watching the display in disgust, was pulled up short by his answer, and he checked Clary's eyes to see if she welcomed the touch. Clary's gaze, though, was lowered. "Just because her bastard father sold her to you doesn't mean you get to touch her whenever you feel like it."

A sudden flush colored Jace's cheeks. "You think I would force my wife to kiss me?"

"That's what I saw just five minutes ago," he replied simply.

"Such a child you must be if you never saw a husband and wife play fight," sneered Jace, but Clary tweaked his sleeve.

"Jace, stop teasing him, he's my friend," Clary grumbled, and then turned to Simon. "He doesn't lie, Simon. Jace and I are married."

"I don't deny that," Simon hissed. "But whether you were went willingly into the marriage or not is what I ask. Did your father make you marry this man?"

"He did," Clary shrugged, "but I welcomed it, too. I've never known such happiness and freedom in all my life."

Simon looked suddenly uncomfortable and he stared at his feet a moment. "Well, Clary, if you ever find you no longer want this man, and he won't let you leave, you know where to find me. I am, and always will be, your faithful friend."

Clary smiled a little wistfully, but Jace snapped his fingers. "Lewis, Simon Lewis! It was your family who got their greedy hands on my land."

Simon's face colored. "We didn't _steal _land! Valentine gave us the land when he promoted my father."

"Yes, and he executed my family so you could have them," Jace said in a dark voice. "Lord Lewis, is it? Well, I'm Duke Jace Herondale, last of my line, shadowhunter."

Simon's eyes widened just a little at the conviction in the young man's voice, but he refused to acknowledge the blow. "Clary, I hope you'll forgive me. I just saw you in danger and thought, well…"

Clary waved her hand at him and smiled. "Don't worry, Simon. It was very reasonable, and I thank you for it. Now, why don't you tell me how you found your way here?"

"If we're going to hear a story," Isabelle sighed, shivering in the cold. "Can't we go back inside? I wouldn't say no to a warm fire and good mug of ale."

"Isabelle is right," Clary said warmly, drawing Isabelle forward to introduce her to Simon. "This is my good friend, Isabelle Lightwood, Simon; she's been traveling with me for months now."

As Clary expected, Simon's face went slack for just a moment. Isabelle was a lovely woman, and looked even more glorious in her fitted top and long, flowing skirt. When she caught the look on Simon's face, Isabelle lowed her lashes, but a seductive smile was playing on her lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Simon said, and offered her a proper bow like he would a lady of the court. "A friend of Clary's is a friend of mine."

"So long as she's a lovely woman," Jace muttered to himself, but Clary pinched him.

"Come, we'll go back to our house and I'll heat up some ale. We still have some, yes, Jace?" Clary said briskly as she gathered her things. Jace pointedly wrapped an arm around Clary's waist and led the small group away.

Simon glowered at Jace's back, but he turned and found Isabelle a pleasant distraction from his burning jealousy. They made their way carefully back inside, picking their ways down the stairs and back into the market. Simon was rather impressed by the city displayed before him, but he seemed more than prepared to leave it all behind if Clary was leaving. Besides, he didn't like the way that Jace was holding her, tugging on her waist like he owned her.

Simon had always been Clary's friend, had always been the one boy she had been comfortable around. They had played together, laughed together, sat in her father's library and read books together. He had thought, perhaps idly, that Clary had grown into a beautiful young woman, and, had even dreamed, that, though he was well below her status, something miraculous would happen, and she might marry him. When his father had suddenly been made a duke, with the largest dukedom in the land, his heart had leapt.

He hadn't even known about Clary's engagement, hadn't known that the Duke Herondale had a son, and that his son was in Idris. Now, watching Jace, Simon felt bitter jealously gripping him and had the urge to hit Jace with something hard. The memory of how Jace had kissed Clary, how he'd ran his hands over her, made Simon's blood simmer. They arrived at Clary and Jace's home and Clary busied herself with heating up some ale while Jace left to find wood to put on the hearth.

Simon, who was sitting on the chest at the foot of the bed, watched Clary and studied the room. He realized at once that there was only one bed, and the sheets were mussed; he flushed at the thought of his best friend messing those sheets, and turned a pair of hurt eyes on Clary. She was stirring the mulled ale and offered him her bravest smile, sensing his disappointment.

"Would you like some?"

Simon took the mug and then caught her wrist and squeezed tightly. "Clary, there's so much…you didn't even bother to tell me you were married?"


	4. Simon's Tale

Simon's Tale 

Clary sat guiltily before the fireplace while Jace pulled a chair out before Simon and spoke with him. For all the bitterness there must have been between the two men, they spoke with each other civilly, Simon describing the new Idris under Jonathan's rule. Clary was sure the Clave would be interested in Simon's testimony, but at the moment, announcing his arrival seemed a poor choice. Not with the things Simon had to share.

"The entire ruling class is gone," Simon began weakly. "As soon as Jonathan announced his father's death, he made himself king and then began conferences with the war council. He told us all we were under attack by some rebel alliance. Nonsense about half-demon men who had made deals with warlocks, witches, werewolves, and vampires. Everyone believed him and those who didn't, didn't last long."

Jace's eyes darkened, realizing that the shadowhunters were the "half-demon men" to whom Simon was referring. "So he knows of our existence?" Jace mused. "Do you know if Jonathan knows where we are?"

"I don't think so," Simon said thoughtfully. "He was constantly sending out search parties, but they would come back empty. He seemed possessed. But, then, a month or so into this, he started having talks with-with these emissaries from…somewhere."

"Emissaries?" Clary stirred from his place by the fire. "He's reached out to other countries?"

Simon's face turned pale and he seemed very shaken. "I-I don't think so. They didn't seem very…_human_."

"What were they?" Jace asked sharply.

"I couldn't tell you, I never saw them," said Simon defensively, and he saw Jace's eyes narrow in frustration. "All I knew is my father was summoned back to the court and the family went with him. When we arrived, there was something wrong with the place, something that didn't feel right. The sunlight didn't show, and the lord and ladies were either quiet as mice or snarling like wolves. It was cold everywhere and the fires didn't burn bright."

Isabelle, who had been standing by the door, listening for any intruders, shot Simon a merciful look, but held her pity to herself. Instead, she said, "But did you _see _anything? Did you see the emissaries?"

Simon had been staring at his hands contemplatively when Isabelle spoke, and he glanced over at her. He swallowed and thought how foolish he might seem to Isabelle, who was clearly one of those brave women Clary spent her time around. "No, I never saw them, but I saw changes in the people.

"Jonathan changed the people somehow; he made them darker, meaner. At first, I thought it was just the usual court sentiment-I know the lords aren't friendly-but then, then I saw my father. He was cruel, hard, and he seemed empty toward us."

Clary had known Simon's father when she was a little girl, and he had been a gentle man, in love with his wife and proud of his son and daughter. He had given her small gifts for her birthdays, and had been the first to show her the maps of the world. Never would she have described him as cruel. "What was wrong with him?"

"He met with Jonathan," Simon shrugged helplessly. "When he returned, his eyes were dark and spoke to none of us. For an entire week he locked himself in his private chambers, and he left us to deal with the public. When he emerged, he wasn't the same man."

"In what ways?" Jace pressed.

"He was…horrible." Simon shuddered. "He hit my mother and sister, and threatened to disown her and take her inheritance away if she didn't marry one of the lords he'd picked. He would stay out late, whoring and gambling, and then come back at night and chase my mother about, snarling at her like some animal. He was a man possessed."

"That might just be the right word for it," Jace murmured under his breath.

Simon went on as if he hadn't heard Jace. "The other lords, and even some of ladies, were the same as him. They went about, their eyes glassy and their mouths opened in horrible sounds. I couldn't tell if it was a nightmare or not, the faces they made. I swore their jaws opened-opened too wide when they laughed," he stuttered. "And I think their shadows moved in strange ways, making shapes all over the walls…"

Clary's eyes found Jace's and she saw how worried he was. "What do you think it is? What magic has Jonathan worked?"

Jace shook his head. "I can't be sure; we should call Magnus and I'll discuss it with him, but it sounds like something foul."

Simon looked between two, wishing he understood the strange bond that held them together. This terror he had seen and felt seemed only natural to them, like they could draw it upon themselves and carry it on their shoulders. He realized, bitterly, that it must have been part of what made Jace such an attractive mate to Clary; he was bold where Simon wasn't, he stood before shadows where Simon fled, Jace could look in darkness and bring light, where Simon could just barely hold it back.

"My father is still alive," Simon said tonelessly. "At least, his body still functions and his mind still works, though bent by this evil."

Clary turned sympathetic eyes on Simon. "Whatever he has done, Simon, it's not your father who is doing it. My brother has done something, something evil, and he's changed the man you knew, but somewhere, deep down, your father is still there."

"I hope he finds himself before he does something drastic," said Simon sadly. "I begged my sister to come with me, but she said she had to stay with Mother. I fear for them, Clary, I fear what the beast my father has become will do to them."

"We'll rescue them," Clary urged, and stood and rushed over to hug him. Clary had gone a long time without hugging Simon, and the feeling of his arms about her was oddly reassuring. Not in the same way Jace's mere presence was, but warm and comforting in the way of an old friend. "Now, how did you come to be here at all? How could you have found your way here when all of Jonathan's soldiers could not?"

Again, Simon looked uncomfortable. "I realized I had to flee the palace when my father came to me and said I was to meet with the King. I knew that whatever evil had taken hold of my father came from his private meeting with Jonathan, and I must admit, I feared what might become of me if I went."

"It's wise, sometimes, to listen to fear," Isabelle said comfortingly. "There is nothing wrong with running when you know you're in too much danger."

Simon bowed his head to Isabelle. "Thank you, milady, you're far more gracious than my conscience has been to me." Isabelle purred at being called 'milady' but Simon continued without noticing her. "I told my mother what my father had said, and told her I wanted to run; she told me to go quietly during dinner, that she would tell my father I was not feeling well. I pleaded with her to come with me, her and my sister, but they refused. I think, on some level, they feared what Jonathan had said. I think most of the land fears Jonathan and his words. They thought there really were monsters about.

"During the dinner, I made my escape, down the river and into the wilds beyond the cities. For days I wandered in any direction, thinking at least that I must eventually come to some city or land that was not under the control of Jonathan. But the forests stretched forever, and I was soon so lost I couldn't remember how to go the way I'd come. I fear I was never one for tracking and hunting. Finally, I deemed myself lost, not only in one sense, but that I would soon die without food or water. I collapsed and waited for death to claim me."

Clary was kneeling before Simon now, and she looked up at him as if he'd simply fallen from the heavens. "But you didn't die; you found your way here."

"It was a dream," Simon said softly. "In a dream I saw a man all in gold with wings that sprouted from his back like an eagle's. He told me, _night is falling and you must seek the dawn_, and then pointed with his finger. But where he pointed, the world suddenly fell away, and I watched the lands race beneath me. He showed me the way here, and when I woke up, I felt new energy in my legs and my mind was clear. From there, I set off in the direction the Angel showed me, and, six days later, here I am."

"You dreamed of the Angel?" Jace asked incredulously. "_Our_ Angel?"

"Excuse me," Simon responded, a little angrily, "but I also believe in angels, and just because you're some uppity lord with lands and holdings and money doesn't mean you get special angels-"

"No, you dunce," Jace cut across him sharply. "The Angel of the shadowhunters; the Angel who was said to come down to Earth and give his blood to make our race."

Here Simon's face went slack. "Shadowhunters? Like the ones in the stories our parents used to tell us?" Simon's eyes darted to Clary. "Is he saying there are shadowhunters?"

"You're looking at them Simon," Clary sighed. "Me, Jace, hundreds of them live here, hiding from Valentine."

"But you're not a shadowhunter," Simon said, laughing a little calm himself. "You're a princess, a lady of the court."

"Simon," Clary began carefully, "Did you never wonder how your father came to power in the first place? It was because my father executed all the shadowhunters because they wouldn't submit to his rule. The last ruling class of lords and ladies were the shadowhunters, when they were wiped out, he instated men to take their place. I have the blood of the Angel, and so does Jace."

She watched Simon's eyes widen and then drop down over her, staring like he'd never seen something so strange before. "But, if you were a shadowhunter wouldn't you know how to fight?"

"I do," Clary said with a small smile. "My father taught me when I was a little girl. I just wasn't allowed to practice openly; he didn't want people to know what we were."

"Why?" Simon asked. "Why not let the world know there were demon hunters still alive."

"It was just us," Clary murmured. "Me, Jonathan, and my father. Until Jace came along, it was going to remain that way too."

Simon, who had been battling his hatred for Jace suddenly realized what Clary had implied, and his eyes darted to Jace. "You weren't allowed to marry outside the family blood line?"

"Outside the Angel bloodline," Clary sighed. "If Jace hadn't survived the sacking of his manor, I would be married to my brother right now."

"I suppose it was lucky you survived," Simon said grudgingly to Jace, who tipped his head in reply.

"It wasn't luck, it was quick thinking on my mother's half before Jonathan killed her. The fact that Valentine discovered me for who I was before Jonathan, now that was luck. I think he would have killed me the moment he got wind of my existence." Jace frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder if he was looking for me when he came the first time."

"Why?" Simon was curious enough to ignore his dislike for Jace. "Why would Jonathan care if you lived? It's not like he knew that his father would marry you to Clary."

"Yes, he did," Clary said quickly. "When Jace and I were born, we were betrothed; it's something my mother wanted, I guess."

"You were betrothed?" Simon demanded. "You never mentioned that."

"When my mother left my father ended it," Clary shrugged. "What does it matter? The important thing is that Jace arrived and we were married, and eventually, we escaped my father."

"How exactly did you manage that?" Simon asked. "I always got the impression your father kept a close eye on you."

Clary flushed a little. "Well, we concocted quite a plan with Magnus. It turns out Magnus was working for the Clave, he'd a warlock." Clary let the announcement settle over Simon, who had known Magnus almost as long as Clary. "He convinced my father I was pregnant and that I should be sent out to the country for the baby's health."

"You're father believed it?"

"He wanted am heir," Clary said darkly, thinking back to her father. "He didn't think he would ever find a wife for Jonathan, so he was going to make my son his heir. I went off into the country with Magnus and we escaped. Jace escaped the castle not a week after I ran."

Slowly, Simon took it all in, and finally, found the words he was looking for. "Were you really pregnant?"

"Simon!" Clary cried, but she was smiling just a little. "Of course I wasn't pregnant, it was all a lie we cooked up for the court. Don't you think I'd be showing a bit more if I'd been with child four months ago?"

"Just checking," muttered Simon. "I can't believe Magnus was a warlock."

"Really?" Clary asked, thinking of his strange eyes and his funny words. "I always thought he was odd."

"Speaking of the warlock," Jace said loudly, "I'm going to go find him. We need his opinion on these matters. Simon, try not to stare at my wife, I would hate to have to hurt you when she seems so fond of you," Jace tossed over his shoulder as he left. Simon narrowed his eyes after Jace as he left.

"Clary, please tell me you don't love him; please just say you married him to escape Jonathan?"

Clary shot Simon a warning look, but before she could say anything, Isabelle spoke up. "Of course she's in love with him. Why else would she run off with him into the wild?"

Simon wanted to be angry with Isabelle, but everytime he turned to face her, he seemed to lose his train of thought. Isabelle found it very charming. "I don't think I like the way he stares at my friends."

Isabelle smiled. "Your friends, his wife." Isabelle seemed to have reached whatever goal she had set for herself, and faced Clary. "I'm going to fetch Max. Should I be expecting you sometime this evening?"

"You have a son?" Simon asked before he could stop himself.

"He might as well be," laughed Isabelle. "He's my little brother. Will you two be coming around?"

"I don't know," Clary shook her head. "There's so much to discuss and plan. I'm sure the Clave will be up in arms soon."

Isabelle bowed, and Simon stood up in a show of respect; Clary smiled a little at her friend. "Then you have only to knock on our door."

As soon as she was gone, Simon turned shamefacedly back to Clary. "She's an outstanding woman, Clary. Whose daughter is she?"

Clary smiled him oddly. "I wouldn't know. I bought her as a slave almost a year ago, and she's been my good friend since."

"A slave?" Simon said, shocked. "_That_ woman was a slave? I can't believe that."

"Before she was s slave, Isabelle and her brothers were the children of a farmer." Clary laughed at the look on Simon's face. "She's a pretty thing, I'll give you that, and she's got a pretty quick wit. Besides, I've come to love her and her brothers."

"At least I can approve of that company," Simon grumbled. "But what are you still doing with this Jace fellow? I get that he's a shadowhunter, but aren't there hundreds of those now? Can't you just leave him? Certainly if he's such an upstanding gentleman he won't hold you to the marriage."

Clary's face darkened. "Simon…how am I supposed to explain this to you?"

"Just tell me the truth."

"I love him, Simon," Clary said, reaching out and cupping Simon's cheek in her hand. "You must understand what it what like for me before Jace came along. Hounded by my father and Jonathan all my life, living a horrible lie to the court, and then Jace came out of nowhere and he picked me up where my mother had dropped me."

Simon's eyes softened with sympathy. "But does he have to be so damned cocky?"

"It's just part of him I suppose, just like my anger is part of me." Clary dropped her hand from his face. "You have to understand, Simon, his life hasn't been an easy one either. His father was a hard man, and then, when his home was sacked…"

"Don't misunderstand me," Simon sad quickly. "I feel for him, I do, but why is he so brusque? And I don't like the way he watches you, like some hungry beast."

Clary grinned a little, liking the idea of Jace watching her. "We haven't had an easy time. He's just overprotective."

"What aren't you telling me?" Simon asked. "Clary's you've been my friend all my life, you've told me everything, but now, you're hiding from me. What has happened?"

"It's hard to say, Simon, and nothing I am comfortable with," she said, standing up and looking away. "Just know that were it not for Jace, I would be dead right now. If not in the true sense, then dead on the inside. Please, Simon, understand, I love him with all my heart, and am forever indebted to him. He protected me when no one else would."

"I would have," Simon said after a moment.

"I do not think the protection I needed, you could have afforded me," Clary said indifferently. "There are some things meant for the shadowhunter world, some things we are bound by our blood to deal with."

Simon's face flushed and then fell. "If you're sure, Clary."

"I am, Simon, so please, play nice with Jace," she said, her hearing picking up the unmistakable sound of footsteps, "he is my husband, after all."

"I will if he does," Simon warned.

Clary opened the door before the knock came, but it didn't matter since Jace was there, Magnus close behind. When Magnus saw Simon, he checked on the spot, and then smiled wryly over at Jace, who returned the smile. "Well, if it isn't Simon Lewis, what hole did you pop out of?"

"Magnus," Clary said warningly. "Simon has come with dark news for us. Jonathan has done something to the lords of Idris. The country is in upheaval."

Magnus raised one eyebrow, but he didn't seem very surprised by Clary's admission. "Of course it is, Clary, your brother isn't quite the politician your father was, and, admittedly, Valentine wasn't much of one to begin with. Jonathan is in a power struggle."

"I've never known Jonathan to struggle before," Clary said darkly.

"He's never had to balance the weight of a nation on his shoulders before, and he needs to consolidate his power before there's a struggle for the throne. Jonathan will have to work quickly to ensure his place as leader."

"He said there was war," Simon pressed, staring at Magnus.

It had never occurred to him that Magnus was a warlock, but now, it seemed he had been blind all his life. The man was tall and thin, his hair combed smoothly into perfect long, glossy black ringlets with sparkling green streaks. His eyes were oddly shaped, now that he cared to look, with pupils like a cat's. When he smiled, there was a strange cut to it, and his eyes seemed to glow with a light not of this world.

"War is an excellent way to unite the people," Magnus reasoned. "If you give them a common enemy, if you make them fear, they will bend to your will. Jonathan hasn't mastered the finer arts of politics, since he actually _is_ at war, but he's getting there."

"That's not what I'm concerned about," Jace cut in. "Jonathan can be at war or not, since he hasn't had any luck finding us, but I'm a little more worried about what's happening with the lords."

"You mentioned that," Magnus said, turning to Jace. "You said they seemed possessed of late."

"My father," Simon said at once, "he's gone mad. He says and does things no man should ever do, and he's run wild. It's not just him either; it's all the lords. They act like animals."

"Simon said that the lords went to meet with Jonathan, and then when they returned they were changed. The lords and ladies were completely insane." Jace was frowning. "And their shadows, he said the shadows weren't human."

This seemed to alarm Magnus. "Their shadows weren't human?" He turned his gaze on Simon. "What did they look like?"

Simon shrugged. "They had crooked backs and strange, hooked hands. When they opened their mouths, it looked like they had fangs. I thought I had drunk too much…"

"No," Magnus muttered. "No, that was not too much drink. Madness, immoral hunger, violence, those are signs of something much worse. Though, how Jonathan managed to crop up an army of demons I would never know…"

"Demons?" Clary's eyes jumped to Jace. "You think Jonathan has replaced the lords with demons?"

"Not replaced," Jace shook his head. "Demons can't bear the heat and light of the sun. I think the men and women of the court are being possessed by demons. I think Jonathan has scared them so much they agreed to whatever promises he made, and then he forced them to become these things."

Clary felt the blood drain from her face. The idea that Jonathan had been poisoning the humans of Idris with demons, sending them out into the world, stealing their very souls, was almost too much. She jumped from her place by the door and threw herself into Jace's arms. "He's coming for us!"

Jace scooped Clary up and tucked her against him, kissing her hair. "You don't know that," Jace whispered. "You don't know that he'll come for you. And if he tries, I'll protect you."

Simon couldn't help the glare that settled over his face, but he saw Magnus watching him, and wiped the look off his face. "You think he's coming for you?"

Jace tightened his grip on Clary even more. "Jonathan wants his sister, and I don't think he's too happy with me. Besides, he'll be looking for what's left of the shadowhunters."

Simon wondered what stood between Clary and her brother. "He's raising an army you think? Where did he get them?"

At this, Jace and Clary flinched away at the memory of the cellar and the demons trapped down there. Jace, in particular, recalled how Jonathan had lovingly treated the demons there. It had been as if they were old friends. There had been plenty of demons there, more than enough for an army, and they seemed ready to escape their dungeon. Jace remembered how they had hungered for him those days he'd been trapped with now weapon. Well, it would be different this time around.

"I'd be more concerned about how we're going to kill the demons and not the people," Jace said, forcing the memories away. "The demons will consume the men and women until they are more demon than person, too tightly wound about their hearts."

"An army of demons, hidden in human skin," Magnus said blankly. "We need to tell the Clave."

This jarred Clary's senses and she spun to face Magnus. "You can't, Magnus; if the Clave hears about this they're going to call me-"

"Clary," Magnus snapped. "I'm sorry, but this isn't really about you anymore. Your brother is amassing an army of demons to help him hunt down the rest of the free peoples. I know you don't enjoy it, I know it's painful, but this is more important than your sensibilities."

"I'll speak first," Jace said to Clary. "I've seen the demons hidden below the castle too. If my testimony is good enough, than they won't even call you forward."

Simon eyed Jace unhelpfully. "I take it I'm going to have to speak?"

Jace returned the look. "Yes, the Clave will want to hear what you've got to say about Idris, though were I you, I wouldn't be too concerned. They won't put much stock by a human testimony anyway."

Clary didn't notice the angry words between her husband and friend. "We'll have to go to war."

"Not necessarily," Magnus said. "The Clave right now is a bit too disorganized, and, though, we've been training soldiers since we fled Idris, we don't have a sufficient army to completely stop Jonathan."

"We don't have an army?" Jace demanded. "We've got hundreds of shadowhunters and Downworlders. The Rangers-"

"The Rangers are the only truly active shadowhunters we have. It will take months to mobilize the shadowhunters, train them up, and get them armed. Besides, the Downworlders will have to be charmed into this war."

"The Downworlders must want to see Jonathan stopped," Clary pushed. "Of course they will join us."

"Don't be so fooled, Clary," Magnus shook his head. "They came here because Valentine was slaughtering them like animals, but Jonathan is making bargains with demons, so why not Downworlders?"

Clary nodded sadly. "But we can't let Jonathan do this."

"No, but stopping him will prove harder than you think," Magnus agreed. He saw the desperate way Clary clung to Jace and sighed. "I will go and call a meeting of the Clave; you two should stay here and relax while you can. Simon, if you come with me, I'll find you a place to stay."

"Can't I stay here?" Simon asked, turning hopeful eyes on Clary. However, Clary was blind to him, looking up at Jace with wide, green eyes that saw only him. Simon knew he had no place here among Clary's misery. "Is there anywhere near here that I can be housed?"

"No especially," Magnus said. "This is where shadowhunters live, but I'm sure there's somewhere to be found by lovely Isabelle and her brothers."

The idea of being near Isabelle seemed to brighten Simon, but he turned once more to Clary. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to call on me, Clary. I'm more than happy to-"

"Just go, Lewis," Jace growled, and began leading Clary back to the bed. "I think I can take care of my wife on my own. If she wants to see you, we'll send someone for you."

Simon bristled. "She's my best friend."

Jace sat Clary on the bed and kissed her firmly on the lips to bring some life back to her. "Clary, call off your hounds, please."

Clary turned and faced Simon with big, sad eyes. "Simon, Jace and I need to figure out what to do with Jonathan. Please, give me a day, and I'll come find you."

Simon seemed truly at a loss. His best friend, the woman he had fallen in love with, was seated on the marriage bed of another man, holding another man's hand. She didn't want him, she didn't even need him. Clary had gone far beyond him now, she was a person he barely knew. Simon didn't think he could ever have felt so hurt or so lost.

"Alright, Clary, just promise you'll tell me what's going on from now on. I feel like I've missed a huge part of your life," he said dejectedly. Clary nodded faintly and then pulled Jace down to her level, whispering softly into his ear.


	5. Recollections and Rallies

Recollections and Rallies

_The cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself. Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and like the insubstantial pageant faded leave not a rack behind…_

Clary stared at the image on the pad of paper before her; the towers and palaces, painted a brilliant gold under a blazing sunset, and the mountains far in the background, fading into mist. She stared most at the mountains, their white caps and huge faces, ribbed with red from the setting sun, and wondered what it might be like to cross those mountains, to see what lay beyond the natural fences of this imaginary land. She ached, seeing the mist, and felt a hunger to escape her own mountains; Clary wanted to find a horse and flee this city as fast as she could. She wanted whatever lay beyond the boundaries of this terrible world.

_We are such stuff as dreams are made on, _she finished the poem in her head, _and our little life is rounded with a sleep. _

"Indeed, a sleep would be nice," she said aloud and stood to get a better view of the painting before her. She had finished reading _The Tempest _and had decided a painting in honor of the play would be worthy of her time. However, she had been working on it for almost three days, since she'd learned of Jonathan's newest evil, and she was bone tired.

"You'd have time for one if you didn't stare at that canvas," Jace commented from his place on the bed. "Or, if you didn't spend so much of your time worrying. Please, Clary, I don't want to watch you die again."

Clary turned to face Jace, and, seeing him looking so adorably rumpled after his nap, curved her face into a smile despite her troubling thoughts. "You've nothing to fear, love; I am most content with life now. Tomorrow, I begin my watches with you, and my best friend has returned to me. I am happy."

"If you are happy, why don't you sleep?" challenged Jace, and summoned her to his side. "You've lain awake two nights now, and when you do sleep, I hear you moaning."

Clary sighed and joined Jace on the bed, however, she didn't snuggle down next to him as she usually would have, only sat, leaning back against the wall behind the bed. "I keep seeing Jonathan."

It was the barest of whispers, but Jace heard depths in it. He knew how terrified Clary was of her brother-she had every right to be-and it haunted her waking hours. The idea that he had an army of demons, now able to travel by sunlight, and that they were even now hunting down the shadowhunters, would disturb anyone. For Clary, though, it was more. She knew if Jonathan ever found her, a grim future waited. "Is that what you fear most?"

"I fear what he could _do_," Clary murmured. "Yes, he could hurt me, but it's what he could do to the others that scares me most. Isabelle and Alec and Max won't go unlooked for, and Magnus will be tracked down, and Simon, too! And you," Clary turned to face Jace and she cupped his face in her hands. "I fear for you most of all. Jonathan despises you, and remember, he still thinks I'm pregnant."

"You shouldn't worry for me," scoffed Jace, clasping her hand. "I know my way around a blade or two."

Clary shook her head. "I would surrender myself to him and all his demons, if he would only spare you."

"Stop this talk, Clary," Jace ordered gently. "It sickens me, so I can only imagine what it does to you. Come, tell me something of your childhood, a happy memory of your life."

"There are none," she said blankly.

"Then I shall tell you one of mine," Jace continued, pulling Clary down to him. "When I was a little boy, I was made to train every day, so that when I grew up I would be a great warrior and defender of my people. My father had me trained in all manner of weapons, in horseback riding, in medicinal plants, and even in languages; but my mother feared it was too much for a boy."

"All work and no play?" Clary asked, absorbing herself in the story.

"Yes, that's what my mother said to my father, and pleaded with him to allow me to grow like a normal boy. But I was as stubborn as my father, and I wanted to learn to fight. I was young and I thought that war and killing were synonymous for honor and dignity." Jace laughed and ran his hands through Clary's hair lovingly. "However, there was always one day of the entire year that I was allowed to be a boy: my birthday. My mother insisted that on my birthday I be allowed to have anything I wanted."

Clary stirred. "What did you want?"

"Well, mostly more weapons, which made my father happy, but there was one year-and I was _very _young, mind you!-that I didn't want weapons. I wanted to take a…a bath in noodles."

As Jace expected, Clary burst into laughter at his side; her giggles echoed all around the small room and Jace blushed ever so slightly. Clary laughed until her eyes watered and she wiped the tears away, and finally, she looked up into Jace's face. When she saw how serious he was, she reached up and kissed him passionately, coaxing a smile from him as well.

"Of all the secrets you could have told me, Jace Herondale, that is the last I expected, and, perhaps, the most desired. I must admit, though, that I can't see you sitting in a tub of noodles. Did your mother and father allow you?"

Jace summoned up what dignity he had after that. "Well…yes, of course. It was my birthday, wasn't it? My father had the servants boil pots of noodles and then fill a tub with them, and then I played in them for the entire day."

"I would have liked to see that," Clary said honestly. "I would have liked to see you as a little boy. Before your mother breeched you, before they cut your first golden curls. You were a beautiful boy, weren't you?"

Jace shrugged nonchalantly, but he enjoyed Clary's thoughts. "I suppose I was a handsome little man. All the babies in the nursery thought so, at least."

"Well, then, I suppose I am just lucky to have you," Clary agreed, and gazed at her palms longingly.

"You shouldn't say such things," Jace said at once. "Luck had nothing to do with it, Clary. If you were a maid in your father's household and I a servant, I would know you. If you were a shopkeeper, and I a delivery boy, I would know you. Were you a farmer's daughter, and I a cropper, I would know you. You are the woman I love, the only woman in the world who I could love. I assure you, luck had nothing to do with it."

"Sometimes, I'm just confused," Clary admitted. "I don't understand how a person like you, who had known such love and such light, could have come to love a person like me, who has known only the dark. We were very different, you and I."

"I do not think so," Jace said firmly. "I think there is something we share, something we don't know, and one day, I hope we will. For now, I am satisfied I lived long enough to meet you, and feel an honest fool for hating the thought of my marriage all my childhood."

Clary smiled slyly. "Do you find marriage to your liking now, Lord Herondale?"

"It could be slightly more enjoyable, little wife, if you would take that ruddy shirt off and come closer." Jace was already pulling the shirt up when he spoke, and Clary was giggling as the feel of cold air against her skin. He sat Clary on his lap and was about to tug the bodice off her when the door shook under a knock, and was then thrown open.

"Clarissa!" Jocelyn gasped, taking a hesitant step back. "I-I didn't mean to interrupt."

Jace made to cover Clary, but she sat up straighter, brazenly, as if to intimidate her mother. "Not interrupting at all, Mother; I'm sure Jace and I can finish once you've left. I take it you will be _leaving_ soon?" She smirked at the word _leaving_.

"Actually, I've come because Magnus told me there were things to discuss, and doing so in private was the best." She entered the room, closing the door before someone else saw her daughter undressed. "I should warn you, Luke is coming, so I might consider getting a robe on. He's not so used to seeing you in such a state."

"I'd say he is," Clary countered, and Jace wondered what she was playing at. The hardness was back in her voice, and it sounded like she was hounding her mother, being vicious and driving for no reason but to be vicious.

"Well, Simon will be here as well," Jocelyn said, frowning at her daughter.

This caught Clary quickly, and she sniffed delicately. "Well, I wouldn't want to upset him, would I?"

Jace relished the thought of what Simon would have done if he'd walked in on the two of them in bed, but put it aside and helped Clary find a robe to cover herself with. After, he watched Clary closely, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. He saw how she was bitingly polite to her mother, making seemingly kind remarks, but with a darkness that belied her. He was sure the cruelty was not lost and Jocelyn, and he saw how badly it hurt the woman to have her own daughter rebuke her for some unknown reason. But it was more than that still. Clary seemed to make a point of rummaging through hers and his things personal things, throwing her petticoats and under things about, letting the robe slip off her shoulder to reveal a strip of pale skin just above her chest; or letting the robe split up to her thigh. It was as if she were asking her mother to reprimand her for showing her body.

_Ask Magnus, _Jace decided. _No doubt this stems from Jonathan's work, but why it's directed at Jocelyn, I'll never know. _Besides, Jace wasn't too fond of the woman; she had, after all, left Clary with Jonathan in the first place.

"Why is everyone coming over?" Jace asked. "Not that I don't like the company, but what in particular has drawn everyone to this…?"

Jocelyn's look silenced him. "It was a good secret you kept, but you can't do it forever. Magnus told Luke, since the two of them were close and-"

"I suppose Luke told you?" Clary snapped suddenly. "And you thought you'd just come over and sniff about?"

"Clary," her mother said softly. "I'm not trying to cause you any more trouble; I swear, I will protect you from the Clave till the end, but I need to know the extent of this evil. If Jonathan now poses a real and severe threat to the Clave, they will have to be informed. However," and here, her eyes grew desperate, "I am willing to submit to them in your place. If I know the full truth of the situation, I can tell them what they must know. The Clave will not call you forward."

"So good to know you're taking care of me," Clary said, sickly sweet. "Such good care you always took of me. I suppose I should be grateful for this little display? Sparing me the Clave's interrogation?"

Jocelyn looked truly hurt, and her eyes were shadowed by more than just the room. "You are my daughter, the only good thing that I have made with my life. Of course I would spare you."

Clary's eyes narrowed. _She doesn't know what she speaks. She left me, left me with Father. He hurt me, tortured me, humiliated me all my life, and she left me with him. And she left me with Jonathan. She does not know what she has done. _"You'll forgive my skepticism, as you haven't been so forthcoming with that love recently."

"I would prove it to you if you would let me," was all she said before the arrival of Magnus and Alec cut short their conversation.

"Clarissa, have some decency, or bring enough for the whole class," Magnus said jokingly as he walked in, catching sight of Clary's bare shoulders. He tugged the robe playfully and Clary laughed, her attitude warming suddenly. Alec, who was always reserved around Clary, blushed furiously at the sight of her. "So, are we all here?"

"Waiting on Simon," Jocelyn said. "I told him to be here soon, I just hope he remembers the way."

"I've a better memory than that," Simon said in a huff, appearing at the door, Luke behind him. When he saw Clary's current state of undress, he reacted very much the way Jace wanted him to. He lowered his eyes after and wouldn't raise them until Clary was seated and covered. "You think I was just going to brush off the fact that the woman I thought was dead for more than ten years turns out to be alive and well, living in secret with the shadowhunters?" He shot Jocelyn a look. "Or, that a particular _friend of mine_ forgot to tell me her mother was alive?

Here, Clary looked up guiltily and looked at him helplessly. "There was a lot on my mind, Simon, forget that you were still alive, but that my brother has begun infecting humans with demons." Clary didn't mention that she didn't really consider her mother to be alive anyway.

Simon gave Clary a dark look. "When all you care about is war, and forget to be grateful for a mother's who's alive, you've spent too much time with these people."

Magnus sensed the anger in his voice and Clary's disinclination to discuss her mother, so he quickly moved on. "Unfortunately, Simon, war is our business, and Jonathan even more so. Could you possibly relate what you saw and heard to Jocelyn? She will need to know all the facts if she is to inform the Clave."

"Why can't Clary?" Simon asked, not wanting to relive the entire story again.

"I don't like them in my head," Clary said softly. "There's too much I still remember, and too much I don't want to remember."

"Besides, Simon," Luke said, speaking for the first time. "Clary is still a young girl, and the Clave is never pleased when they must get their information from a young girl."

Clary noticed Luke for the first time, having known him most of her life as a dog. He was a tall man with messy dark hair, scruff on his chin and cheeks, and a pair of dark, contemplative eyes. He looked like a man who was ready for action, but a man who was thoughtful, too. If her mother had known Luke, why, Clary wondered, had she chosen to marry that monster? For just a moment, Clary wondered how different her life might have been had her mother married Luke. She would have a father who loved her, a father who wouldn't have tormented her all her life. She'd have a brother too, because certainly, whatever Valentine had done to Jonathan, Luke wouldn't have done to him. She almost preferred that to her current life, but…then she wouldn't have Jace.

_Is Jace worth all the suffering you've endured? _she asked herself, glancing at the handsome man beside her, holding her hand. _Yes, he is, and you know he is. You know that you would suffer it all again for his sake. _It was a shocking thought, and one that brought into question what kind of woman, she, Clary, was. Who was she to fall so madly in love that she would live through hell just to have a man? _Perhaps you're more like your mother than you think._

Clary turned the thought away just in time to hear Luke speak again. "I know it must be hard for you, Simon, to have to think of these things. They make me sick at heart, so I can only imagine what it must be like for you. But a time is coming when we will have need of bravely and self-sacrifice and you can begin now."

Simon frowned to himself, glanced at Clary, and knew he wasn't going to put his best friend through torment if she didn't think she could bear it. "I'll do this once more," Simon warned, and launched once more into his tale.

Jocelyn's face grew shadowed as she listened, and Clary could only wonder how she felt, listening to the fate of her husband and the evil of her son. She must have known what part she had played in it, Clary guessed. Perhaps the reason Jonathan was so cruel was because Jocelyn had left him without a mother? Perhaps he felt empty and lonely and had taken it out in any way he could.

_Especially on you, since you favor her so much,_ Clary thought, looking at herself and then her mother; they shared certain similarities. _It's her fault, all her fault that you're life was so miserable._

"This is dark news," Jocelyn said as Simon finished his telling. "Much darker than I had thought. It is enough to know that Jonathan is king and that his madness has at last been unleashed, but that he has been building an army like this? This goes hard."

"The Clave needs to know immediately," Luke said, shooting Jocelyn a meaningful look. "We're going to have to stop him, Jocelyn; the Clave will have to mobilize again. I can only hope that we'll have the army we need."

"Will you speak, Luke?" Jocelyn asked. "I can tell the Clave what I know, but you've known more of Jonathan's life than I have. They will need to be made to understand what this could mean…what Jonathan could do."

"I will speak," Luke said, conviction in his voice. "And you, Magnus? Will you not go before the Clave as well?"

Magnus scrunched his nose in distaste. "I have no love of the Clave, but I certainly value my own skin. I will join you."

"Do you need us?" asked Jace suddenly. During the conversation, he felt that he had suddenly been diminished, like he and Clary and Simon had been dismissed from the adults. "I was in the castle as well, I can speak on Clary's behalf."

"No," said Luke at once. "Regardless of the fact that if you offer to 'speak on Clary's behalf' will suggest she is well enough to hear this tale, your testimony will be subject to great debate. You are young Jace, and while you were indeed in the castle alongside Jonathan, he treated you like a slave."

"And so?" Jace shot back, hating the reminder of his past.

"You would have received more than your fair share of Jonathan's anger. In the eyes of the Clave, it will seem as if he were just cruel to his servants, and will only detract from our case."

"Besides," Jocelyn said, trying to be kind. "You're still a boy, Jace, and the Clave will be loathe to take your testimony seriously."

"I'm not a boy," Jace snapped back. "I'm the one who goes out with the Rangers, I'm the one who got Clary out of the castle, and the one who had to put up with Jonathan. I think I might know a thing or two about adult life. Let me help."

Luke sighed. "Even if we wanted to, Jace, the Clave won't let you. You're too young, and they won't send a boy out into the field. Your death would be on their hands then, and even they won't abide by that."

"But I can fight!" Jace protested. "I can fight better than anyone here, and even you said there was something different about me. When I had the shadow sickness it barely affected me, that's not normal."

"You would do best to shut your mouth, boy," warned Magnus softly, "since we didn't actually tell the Clave about that. It's a little suspicious, you must understand; you're ability to fight demons off, Clary's gift with runes…we kept that quiet because it's clear Valentine did something to you."

"You lied to the Clave about me?" Jace said, staring at the warlock before him. "They should know what I can do."

"No one needs to know that, Jace," Luke warned. "As far as the Clave is concerned you're a gifted soldier, but nothing special. The Angel only knows what they'll do if they find out about that."

Jace considered Luke a moment. "I'll tell them myself."

"You'll do no such thing," Jocelyn said suddenly, and Clary saw a flash of power shoot through her mother. It was like looking at a true queen. "You might not care about your own wellbeing, but my daughter depends on you, and if the Clave learns what you are, they'll drag you off to war. And you, Duke Jace Herondale, are not so above me yet that I can't pull you back down by your breaches and hole you up somewhere snug. I left Clary once, but you won't."

Clary felt her mouth drop open, and even Luke looked shocked. Magnus, however, seemed impressed. "My, my, my Jocelyn, you're proving to be the most charming shadowhunter I've ever met. I like this one," he said to no one in particular, then shot a provocative look at Alec. "She's got some _fire_ in her."

Jace had gone slightly pale, for in that moment, he had seen a shadow of Jocelyn's true self, the shadowhunter who had ruled beside Valentine, and the woman who had the nerve to leave him. "I had no intention of leaving your daughter," he said stiltedly.

"Then you would do well to remember who you are and where you belong," she returned flatly. "You will say no such things to the Clave, and if you do, I will go before them and say you're a lair. I was married to Valentine, I bore him two children; you think I would not know if he were giving me or Celine something? If I name you a liar, Jace Herondale, you will be cast from the Rangers, and you'll be lucky if your runes aren't stripped."

"Mother!" Clary rose at once, her cheeks colored. "Don't you threaten him just because he wants to do what is right."

"I'm not threatening him," said Jocelyn with the composed face of a monarch. "I'm simply telling him the consequences of certain actions. I won't have him leave you for war, Clary; there is nothing honorable or glorious about dying in battle, and that is all that will come of it if you do." Jocelyn turned away, and she seemed to diminish. "I'm only doing what I think is best for you, Clary."

"By threatening Jace with having his runes removed?" Clary had come forward before Jace, and it presented an amusing sight: the small, delicate, fiery redhead, standing in defense before her much larger lover. "We're not children, he and I, and if Jace wants to go to war-"

"She's right, Clary," Jace said softly behind her back. He laid a gently hand on her shoulder and drew her back a pace. "I should not have wanted to leave you in the first place."

"But, if you _want _to go, I certainly wouldn't have me being the reason…" Clary stared up into Jace's face, and he seemed to be coming to a difficult decision.

"No, Clary, the only place I belong is wherever you are. So long as you remain here, which I'm sure the Clave and your mother will see to, I will too. I left you once, and that, for only a short month or so, and it was almost unbearable not knowing you were safe. I won't do it again."

"Please, don't sacrifice for me," urged Clary. "I'm your wife, not your prison guard."

Jace smiled sadly at her, brushing the hair off her face. "You are the woman I love, and I have no desire to be parted from you. Now, sit down, don't worry. You're mother didn't offend me, though, she might have frightened me a bit more than I thought."

Magnus smiled to himself and cleared his throat. "If we could get back to more pressing matters than your married life, Mr. Herondale, that would be brilliant."

"I find all aspects of my life brilliant," agreed Jace.

"Someone must go to the Clave," Luke said, cutting across the two. "Since all three of us sit on the council, we might as well go together."

"We're going to have to be prepared for a backlash from the Clave," warned Magnus. "I know shadowhunters; all you do is kill demons and play with your runes. It will be hard to encourage them to summon up an army. They won't want to believe this is happening."

"We'll have to make them see reason, then," Jocelyn said firmly. "Any time wasted in debate of this, is time Jonathan gains. We're going to need an army ready within the year, and not just shadowhunters either." Her eyes moved inexorably to Luke. "Do you think the Downworlders are willing to move with us?"

"I know my pack will," Luke said darkly. "But if Jonathan offers them something better, they will choose him over us."

"Then we've no time to lose," Jocelyn said, rising and dusting off her pants. "We'll go now, call an emergency hearing."

"Leaving so soon, and with no veiled threats?" Jace asked smoothly.

Jocelyn gave him an almost sinister smile. "I don't veil my threats, Jace, I find it's unfair to the unlucky soul who receives them in the first place." Then she moved forward and took Clary's hand in hers, lowing her voice. "I know you are angry at me, though why, I may never know. But know this, Clarissa: I love you, and this I do for you."

Clary jerked her hands back. "Such good intentions."

Jocelyn didn't show the merest glimmer of hurt, though she was certainly feeling it, but she smiled bravely all the same and turned to Luke and Magnus. "If you two would care to join me, we have a meeting to call."

As they left, Clary shuddered against her will and turned to face Jace. "It's going to take a year to raise an army to fight Jonathan?"

"I don't know," Jace said listlessly. "I don't know anything about the Clave's relationship with the Downworlders, and I'm sure we're going to need them to win. This will go hard on this city."

Clary reached out and pulled herself into Jace's embrace. "I wish Jonathan had just died."

"As do I, Clary, I assure you of that," Jace murmured in her ear. "For now, we're just going to have to accept that he lived and find a way to stop him."

Clary looked thoughtfully at Jace. "I'm going to stop him, Jace, I'm going to kill him. After everything he did to me, after what he did to you, and what he's done to the people of Idris, I'm going to kill him."

Jace heard the ice in Clary's voice and turned to give her a look. "Such a fierce little mistress I've married; it's rather attractive, Clary."

"Being away from court suits me well," agreed Clary.

Simon, who was still seated nearby, cleared his throat sharply. "I'm sorry to interrupt this personal moment, but I'm afraid as I'm simply a man in this city, I have no pressing duties that draw me elsewhere."

Clary spun about, for the first time noticing that she was in a robe, precariously draped over herself. "I'm sorry, Simon." She lowered her eyes, feeling like a poor friend. "How about we go visit Isabelle and Max for lunch? It's my last free day before I start my watches."

Simon wanted to say no, he didn't want to spend time around Clary and her obnoxious lover, but the idea of seeing Isabelle was a heartening thought. "I suppose lunch might be nice."

"After we eat, we can explore the city a bit more," Clary said, smiling brightly. "There's dancing and music during the evening, too. We'll make a celebration of it."

"It's been a while since I've danced," Simon said, thinking of the time he had spent in court, dancing with the beautiful, practiced women. "I've never been that good at it."

Jace snorted, but Clary shoved him. She thought of her first night there, dancing to a driving beat, throwing her hair and skirts around, laughing when Jace drew her against him, feeling him up and down her body. It had felt like she was alive, like her blood with singing and she was a whole different person. She wondered vaguely how Simon would take to it, the closeness and the fieriness, and if he would ask Isabelle to dance or if she would just offer her hand like an independent woman did. She hoped so. "It's a different kind of dancing."


	6. Indecision

Indecision 

Desmond's hooves kicked up snow in little clumps as she picked her way carefully through the trees, her breath clouding on the air and her warm body steaming in the early morning chill. Seated in her saddle, Clary clung as close as she could to the mare, shivering beneath her black cloak. Even though they were in a forest, the trees were sparse enough that a chilly wind could billow through it, and Clary, dressed in the black cloak that all Rangers wore, resembled a wraith. Ahead of her, Jace looked to Clary like an evil warlock; he had drawn the hood of his cloak up to cover his glowing golden hair from unwanted eyes.

"Cold?" asked a voice behind Clary. She turned and saw Rosa watching her with a slight curl to her lip. "It's hard to be outside once you've been underground for so long, you'll just have to learn to adjust."

Clary didn't miss the sour note in the woman's voice. "I'll fare well enough, I think; when I still lived in Idris with my father, he would make me rise before the sun rose every morning in winter, and stand outside in the snow until my fingers started to turn blue, and if I faltered, he would beat me."

Clary was pleased by the look of faint shock that lingered on Rosa's face. "That's rather unfortunate."

"Perhaps, but I'm certainly stronger for it," said Clary. "Though it seems pointless as we haven't seen or done _anything _in hours. All my training for waste…"

"We're still relatively close to home," Rosa said reasonably. "We don't get many stray Downworlders wandering near us. They can sense the shadowhunters and clear out."

"What about the demons?" asked Clary, and she heard a twig snap next to her right ear. Her eyes darted to the line of trees and alighted on a small rabbit making its way through the underbrush. "Certainly we're going to run across a few of them?"

Rosa laughed. "Not likely. You haven't spent much outside the palace walls have you?"

"I was never allowed." Clary bristled at the woman who seemed to dislike her so much. She turned her face away and threw her hood up, kicking her horse into a trot alongside Jace. "Is it always this quiet?"

Jace smiled at Clary. "Mostly. I told you, I don't really consider this to be the work of a true shadowhunter. However, it gets you out of the city and into the open. Why, is it not to your liking?"

Clary sighed. "Well, I won't deny that being out in the light and fresh air has done wonders for me, but I think I will become a country bumpkin riding a fat paltry if I don't fill my time with something."

"I can think of a few things that might fill your time," Jace murmured provocatively, "but they would certainly get us in trouble were we caught."

"What did you have in mind?" asked Clary, a challenging smile on her lips.

"Just a little play," mused Jace, but caught the sight of Sebastian smirking at him and turned to give Clary a view of his cheek. "We'll talk about it later, little wife."

"I highly doubt that what we'll be doing will be talking," laughed Clary, and Jace joined her. Behind them, Rosa frowned at Clary's backside; she wasn't particularly fond of the little princess who had cheated her way into their ranks. It wasn't that there was anything particularly wrong with the girl, but she was beautiful and talented, and Jace loved her. It was enough to make any woman dislike her.

"Perhaps I misspoke when I said that…" Jace agreed and his eyes wandered up ahead to a break in the trees. He drew his horse up short, feeling oddly unsettled by something. "Clary, stay behind me; Sebastian, stay in the rear."

Clary, too, felt a tingling up her arms and her heart started to beat faster; at first, she thought it was terror, but as they drew nearer and nearer to the clearing, she recognized it as excitement. Her hand fell down the blade tucked neatly in her belt and she loosed it, ready for a fight. At her side, Rosa drew level and eyed Clary unhelpfully, wondering how well the girl could handle herself in a real fight.

"It's not a demon," Sebastian said, though his voice was filled with concern. "It can't be."

Jace and Clary and exchanged worried looks; they knew that Jonathan had released the demons into the world. "We should be prepared for anything," was all Jace said, and then urged the horse forward into the light.

It was a gruesome sight that met their eyes when they passed into the frail winter light. Rosa and Sebastian, who had been born and spent her entire life beneath the earth, drew back in disgust. Even Jace pulled away, his senses reeling, but he quickly overcame it when he saw Clary. She was least affected, and she had swung off her horse swiftly, blade out, eyes fixed like a hunting hound on her prey.

It was indeed a demon, a lesser demon, something that could just barely cling to this world by feeding off the living-as it was then. It looked like a millipede, except much larger, and with jaws that unhinged to open wider. The demon had managed to trap a small doe and had already throttled it, breaking its neck in the process, and had wrapped itself about the poor thing's body. At that moment, its mouth was engaged in tearing the throat out of the doe, and the blood was pooling on the fresh, white snow. The demon's small, countless legs were squirming in sick pleasure, and it was so consumed with its kill that it didn't notice Clary had drawn level to it.

"Filth," Clary hissed, "poisoning the root of things. What hole did you crawl out of?"

Whether it had heard her or whether it sensed her, Clary didn't know, but the demon's head snapped up, and its many eyes locked on her. It breathed it, tasting the air. "_Fresh blood_," was the sound that came from its mouth.

The blade in Clary's hand slashed out before her, slicing through the air before the demon's face. "It's blood you'll never taste."

The demon slithered around the deer carcass rapidly and rose up before Clary like a snake. "_Angel blood, fresh angel blood_," it snarled and lunged at her. Clary threw up her blade and made a perfect cut through the underbelly of the demon. It fell back, withering and snapping its jaws, but not before its tail whipped about and caught Clary's arm.

She fell back with a cry of frustration more than pain, but Jace shot forward and drove his blade into the demon's throat. It fell back into a coil of black and blood, making horrible screaming sounds as it died. Jace watched it for a moment, but then spun about and caught Clary up. She had already pushed her sleeve up and was inspecting he wound.

"Is it deep?" Jace asked sharply. "Has it cut down to your bone?"

Clary rolled her arm in her socket, as if testing the mobility. "No, no I think it's fine, I think it's just a little bit of blood and a scratch."

Jace, though, didn't see the point in risking any bit of Clary's health, and had her sit before him so he could inspect it closely. Rosa had gotten off her horse and was staring at the place where the deer carcass was, her face closed and thoughtful. She hadn't expected a real demon to be haunting the land, let alone, this close to their city. She had also been slightly surprised by the quick action on Clary's part. She turned about just in time to see Jace carefully undoing the laces on the back of her shirt and pulling down the fabric to get to a healing rune on her back. Rosa's compliment got caught in her throat when she glimpsed the delicate way Jace's hand rested on Clary's shoulder, like a gentle caress more than a steadying force.

"A demon here," Sebastian whistled, once the healing rune had set to work. "I didn't think I'd live to see the day. I had thought Valentine had rid the world of all them, that of all his cruel deeds, it was his only pure accomplishment." Jace shot Sebastian a dark look, his eyes racing back to Clary, but she simply waved him off.

"It appears my father had more secrets than we knew," she said softly. She wasn't supposed to know about Valentine's demon army, not until her mother told the Clave. "I suppose we're going to have to report this to the Clave?"

"Obviously," Rosa said sharply. "We can't overlook a demon, not even something so small as this. They're going to double our watches, you know…"

Jace squeezed Clary's shoulder tighter and pulled her to her feet. "I don't think it matters what they do with our watches, not if we're faced with an invasion. We need to go, and go quickly."

"Bury the corpse first," said Clary quickly. When the three turned back to her, eyebrows raised Clary blushed but continued. "It's something my father…taught me to do. He said that if there are any demons about they'll smell the blood and death and be drawn to it. The best is to put the body in a river, but having none, bury it in the ground. We don't want to draw demons closer."

"She's right," Sebastian said, and dug around in his saddle bag. He recovered a small shovel and tossed another to Jace. "Hurry up, Herondale, the sooner this corpse is gone the sooner we can be gone from this place."

As the boys dug the hole and buried the deer, Rosa joined Clary, who was scanning the perimeter for other threats. "That was quick thinking on your part, Clary, killing the demon. I think it's been so long since any of us have seen one that we forgot the effects they have on us. Not you, though, you seemed quite ready."

Though she pretended to ignore it, Clary sensed the accusation in Rosa's voice: _You've seen a demon before, seen one very recently, haven't you?_ Clary, however turned to Rosa with a polite smile on her face. "My father grew up in a world ruled by bloodshed and loss; he wanted me to know how to fight."

"You should consider teaching the children, then," Rosa said blankly. "They might benefit from the help."

"It seems my skills are best put to use out here," Clary replied swiftly. "I adore children, but they aren't the ones who are going to fight our wars. I despised the kingdom my father ruled over, and I believed for so long that my people were dead. I would not wish to lose them now."

There was such conviction in Clary's voice that Rosa found herself quite speechless. However, Jace and Sebastian finished the shallow grave for the deer, and quickly mounted their horses and sped off. Now, with the scent of death in their noses and the warning of worse to come, the four shadowhunters passed like wraiths beneath the trees, their black cloaks billowing behind them and their horses frantic with the scent of blood. When they reached the small clearing where they left and entered the city, there was tension stringing through their bodies.

When they arrived, the city seemed in upheaval. Shadowhunters were running about frantically, and it seemed as if their city had been turned upside down. Clary watched men and women ushering children into their stores or homes, and felt the tension that seemed to sing through the bodies of all the Downworlders. When they reached the training center, shadowhunters were gathering up weapons and donning their finer cloaks. It took a few minutes to find Jai, their quarter master. She was a middle aged woman of Asian descent, and at the moment, seemed harassed. Her eyes narrowed when they explained what they had seen. "And you're sure of this?"

"How could we possibly be mistaken?" Sebastian demanded. "It was a demon, and it was hunting dangerously close to our land. If Clary hadn't had her wits about her, I dare say we would have been in for a bad time."

Jai's eyes landed on Clary, who returned the look boldly. "Morgenstern…you're mother called an emergency meeting of the Clave yesterday. Any idea what it was about?"

"It's Herondale," Clary corrected sharply, "and no. What my mother does with her time is no concern of mine. Besides, what my mother has to say has no bearing on this attack. There was a demon in our woods, and if there was one, there is bound to be more. We must inform the Clave."

"Then I suppose I'll just add this little bit to the good news. After your mother's meeting with the Clave, a summons was sent out to the shadowhunters for a conclave. Whatever Jocelyn Morgenstern has to share with us can't bode well."

Clary avoided the woman's eyes pointedly. "This is important, maybe it even has some bearing on her news."

Jai sighed. "You four can't leave the city until I've shared my news with the Clave, as they may want to speak with you. Find somewhere to keep yourself occupied for a few hours. I'll summon you if you're needed." With that, Jai left, giving Clary one last suspicious look.

"No wonder this place has gone to the dogs," muttered Sebastian. "A conclave on Jocelyn Morgenstern's word? There's got to be something bad in the air."

"Why do you say that?" asked Clary sharply, wondering what power her mother held over the Clary, and then thinking back to her threat to Jace.

"Well," Sebastian said, not sure if he's angered her. "It's just that your mother was deep in Valentine's council when she lived with him. Whatever she knew of Valentine was precious information, and the Clave has always listened to her. If she's just revealed something of importance to the Clave, they will certainly call a conclave."

"She doesn't know anything of my father," was all Clary said darkly. "Jace, let's find Isabelle and Max and see if we can't get something to eat."

Jace led Clary away from the field and out into the city; they passed by a number of shadowhunters heading for the clave. A few heads turned in their direction, caught by the black cloaks and the open weapons, but they ignored the looks and made for the more civilian part of the city. At the shop, Jace opened the door for Clary, and the sight of his face in brought on a shout of joy.

"Jace!" It was Max, and he weaved through the bookshelves like an expert. "Jace! Did you just come back from one of your watches? Did you see anything? Were there demons?" Max caught Jace wrist and tugged him about.

Jace, to Clary's surprise, scooped him up and swung him up into the air to rest him on his shoulders. "We saw a demon, alright," he said, and Max's face fell. "We came across it hunting and Clary killed it."

Max's face swung around to Clary. "You killed the demon?"

"I did," Clary said, winking at Jace. "We tracked it down through the woods and killed it together. It was huge, horrible, like a giant centipede, but it had a great big mouth with thousands of teeth! Jace and I killed him together."

Max tugged Jace's hair in excitement. "Did you really kill it?"

"We did it together, just as Clary said, she stabbed it first, but it ran away." Jace flicked out his stele, handing it up to Max to play with. "I chased it down and cut its throat. Show me how you cut a throat," ordered Jace, poking Max's side.

"Jace!" Clary laughed, but Max was laughing, slashing at the air. In his excitement, his hand knocked a book from one of the top shelves and it came down on Clary's head. "Ouch!"

Jace turned about sharply, and Max, realizing he had been the one to hit Clary, dropped the knife in shock. "I'm sorry, Clary! I didn't mean to hit you, I swear, I didn't mean it!" Max looked frantic, terrified.

Clary rubbed her head but waved at Max. "You're fine, Max, just fine; it was only a book. Just be a bit more careful next time, you're a little wild with that thing."

Max tugged on Jace's sleeve, pointing down to the floor and he rushed over to Clary. He looked at her a bit uncertainly, his memory still clinging to the image of Clary as a princess. Max had known Clary for a long while as royalty. He had been intimidated by the image of a woman who had the power to take his life. Now, she was no longer an image of strength, she was a shadowhunter who _could _take his life with the flick of her wrist. He blinked up at her with big, brown eyes.

"I'm sorry, Clary," said Max. He felt the brush of Jace's legs behind her. "I was just pretending to be a shadowhunter."

Clary gave him a very warm smile, one she had reserved for so long only for Jace. "You were being brave, that's all. A brave little warrior." Clary ruffled his hair uncertainly; she hadn't ever had children around her growing up, and her father hadn't been very nurturing or tender. On an urge, trying to copy Jace, she picked Max and set him on the crook of her hip. "It's good you're so eager to fight, so eager to learn. You'll be a great soldier one day."

Max smiled back at her and Clary looked up. She found Jace staring at her with the strangest look, like he was never more pleased with her, never more in love with her than in that moment. Clary smiled back dauntlessly and brushed past Jace, Max on her hip. When she reached the counter, she was surprised to find Simon there, a book open on the counter before him, but his eyes on the unmistakable figure of Isabelle.

Jace snorted and Max shot him a secretive smile, but Clary shushed them both. "Simon, what are you doing here?"

Simon jumped as she spoke. "Well, I had some free time and I thought I might use a good book, and Luke had told me he owned a bookshop. I didn't know Isabelle worked here…"

"Speaking of Izzy," Jace said loudly. "What type of woman lets her little brother run around a store unattended?"

"You best watch yourself, Jace Herondale." Isabelle came up beside him, giving him a dark look, and shuffling some books in her hands around. "I'm trying to make a living, I can't keep my eyes on him all the time. Why, what was he up to this time?"

"I'm just bored!" Max moaned from Clary's arms. "School was cancelled and I had nowhere to go and nothing to do."

"The school was cancelled?" Clary asked.

"Oh, yes," sighed Isabelle, shifting the books and coming forward for Max. Clary smiled a bit and shook her head, tightening her grip on the boy. "I guess there was some great meeting called around mid-afternoon and all the boys and girls were sent home early. Max couldn't stay home without me, so he had to come here."

"I hate books!" Max moaned, shooting eyes at Jace. "I hate reading. I want to learn to fight!"

Jace gave him a stern look. "I did my fair share of reading when I was your age, Max, it's the only way to learn anything worthwhile."

"You can't learn to fight from a book," pointed out Max.

"No, but you can learn war strategy from a book. You can learn history of your enemies from a book. You can learn of past battles from a book." Jace saw Max's eyes drop, and he quickly winked at him and tickled his side mercilessly.

"Okay, okay!" Max cried. "I'll read, I'll read!"

"My mother used to read to me when I was young," Clary said softly. "She'd take me outside and read me every sort of book you could imagine. Stories of all kinds, and when she spoke, it was like an entire world was being painted before my eyes."

Isabelle pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'd read to him if I could, but, well, I'm not too great at it…"

"I could read to you, Max," Clary offered. "After you and Jace practice with swords I could read to you anything you like."

Max gave Clary a long look, recalling the night he'd sat in her chamber, listening while Clary read aloud for the _Iliad _and Magnus healed Jace. He had remembered it fondly. "Do you have many good books?"

"Max, if someone offered to teach you to read, you should accept willingly and swiftly. How many of those children we knew back on the farm could read? How many of the slaves we worked alongside could read?" Isabelle gave him a stern look. "Of course he'll let you read to him."

Max looked down, ashamed, but Clary laughed and lifted his face to hers. "You come to me when you want, Max. The Angel knows every boy wants to grow into a soldier. Of course you want to learn to fight."

This seemed to set Max at ease and he jumped from her lap and ran to find the stele he'd dropped earlier. When he returned with it, his eyes landed on Jace. "Will you show me how to kill a demon?"

"All in good in time, kiddo," Jace said, rustling his hair. "Go practice a bit on your own, we've got grown-up things to discuss."

Max left swinging the stele about his head and dodging imaginary foes. Once he was out of sight, Clary turned about to face Isabelle. "I don't know what Simon's told you, but there's been some sort of huge meeting called for all the shadowhunters. My mother told the Clave about Simon's story."

Isabelle nodded. "I could have guessed without knowing. Luke came in today saying he was going to be gone for the rest of the day and possibly the night. He came and found Maia and told her she had to come too, pack business I guess. Alec told me he wasn't going to be home tonight because Magnus was summoned, and as his personal assistant, he had to go with him. I've seen shadowhunters running around like chickens all day. Whatever is going on, it can't be good."

"If Jonathan has begun raising an army, the Clave will have to act," Jace said. "And after what we saw today, the Clave will have to believe there is some need for an army."

"You really saw a demon?" Isabelle asked, her eyes wide. "A real demon?"

"Yes," said Clary gravely. "It was a weak one, but still very real. It can't bode well to have one so close."

"Do you think Jonathan sent it?" asked Simon urgently. "Has he managed to track this place down?"

"I don't think so," Clary said. "It was too weak to be of any real use to him. Even if it had found our city, it would have no way to communicate back to him. If anything, it would probably be confused by what it saw. I think it might just be one on the loose."

"However," said Jace. "If one loose demon can find its way here, another, much smarter one will be sure to find us, too."

"What will the Clave do?" asked Isabelle.

"I couldn't tell you," shrugged Jace. "They'll have to prepare for war, raise an army, start training up more than just shadowhunters. Maybe send out the watches farther and farther."

"Do they know about…well, about how Jonathan might want to find you two?" Isabelle pressed. She hadn't forgotten the way Jonathan had chased Clary about the castle, how his eyes had followed her every movement. "He seemed very stuck on you, Clary. Do you think the Clave is going to try to hide you?"

Clary didn't miss the sharp glance Simon shot her, and wished Isabelle had been a bit more quiet. "Well, we didn't tell the Clave anything about me and Jace and Jonathan, and I don't think my mother will, so no. At least, I hope not. I can't bear being locked up again."

"If the Clave decides to go to war, does that mean that I might be trained?" asked Isabelle hopefully. "Not that I don't appreciate learning from you, Clary, but I'd love to have a chance to show the world what I can do."

Simon's face paled. "You can't seriously want to fight, milady?"

Isabelle smiled condescendingly at Simon. "I certainly will not sit behind while my older brother is sent to battle, not while I can lift a sword."

"But a woman should not see such things-"

"Clary is a woman," Jace cut across Simon. "She learned to fight when she was girl, and has been doing it ever since. I can't see why stopping Isabelle is any different from stopping Clary."

Simon looked outraged. "You're her husband!" Simon snapped, pointing at Clary. "A husband's duty is to protect his wife, keep her safe from things like demons. I don't care if she's a shadowhunter, she's still a proper woman, one who needs protection."

"Now, that, I highly doubt," sneered Jace. "You have no concept of this world, Lewis. You don't understand what it means to fight for what is right and good. Lords like you fight to serve a king, we fight to serve the people. Isabelle has every right to take up arms; she's lost enough to Jonathan."

"I suppose you think Clary ought to go to battle to, then?" Simon crossed his arms, ignoring the pleading look Clary sent him. "Well, I 'm just glad Clary's mother has some sense and forbid her."

"If Clary has any desire to go to battle, I'm certainly going to let her-"

"You're the worst husband a woman could marry," Simon shot back, and realized he'd said something wrong only a moment too late.

Jace didn't move but for the narrowing of his eyes, and his hand moving to the hilt of his blade. He looked like a pond iced over, luring unsuspecting children out, only to crack beneath them and trap them in icy water. When he spoke, his every word was as ice. "You think, perhaps, you might make a better one? You think, with your words and your books and your careful consideration you might protect her better? You are nothing if not a coward and fool; I think perhaps you still hold on to some desperate hope that Clary will fall in love with you. She never will."

Simon's face had gone rather pale, and he didn't dare meet Clary's eyes; he was too afraid of what he might see in those lovely green eyes if he looked. "I was raised to defend my lady wife."

"You were raised by a soft human," Jace said quickly. "A shadowhunter would never seek to stop his wife from going to battle-"

"Stop, it, both of you!" Clary had stood, and she placed one hand against Jace's chest, and other on Simon's shoulder. "I don't appreciate you belittling my friends, mocking their upbringing, and cutting him down, Jace. As for you, Simon, you were raised a lord! How do you think Isabelle finds you now, arguing like a commoner in the street?"

Simon look properly rebuked, and he ran a hand through his messy brown hair. She felt Jace's fingers curl around his wrist, and when she turned to shoot him a glare, she found his face almost sad. Simon stood, clearing his throat. "Well, I see I've made a right and proper fool of myself, in the company of women, no less. Clarissa, I'm sorry I lost my temper; Isabelle, I hope you'll forgive me my outburst."

Isabelle raised one eyebrow, having seen plenty worse brawls in the pub than Simon's little argument, and bowed her head graciously. "By all means."

Simon turned last to face Jace, who had managed to compose his face and seemed again, calm and collected. "I think you and I shall be arguing forever over this matter, but I know when a battle is lost."

_Certainly a battle, but what of the war?_ Jace wondered. "Valiantly fought, Lewis."

Simon made one last bow to them all before he left the shop. Isabelle followed him and shook her head at Clary. "You're going to have to explain to that boy one day that you're not some delicate little flower. Besides, I don't know how much longer Jace and Simon can argue before they come to blows."

"I would never hit Simon," Jace said proudly. "It would be completely unfair for him, and only adds insult to injury, seeing as he already lost Clary."

"Jace, I'm warning you," Clary said coldly. "Quite drawing him out like that. I've known Simon many years, and he's been my friend through everything before you came about. I won't have you two arguing."

Jace rubbed her am. "I'll be on my best behavior, Clarissa, my very best; I blame you, love, since I haven't had your kisses all day."

"Don't you try and charm me," Clary warned, but Jace pulled her down and kissed her firmly.

"What are you doing?" Max demanded, emerging from the book shelves.

"Don't worry about it, Max," Isabelle said, drawing him over and snapping her fingers at Jace. "Would you two mind staying a while? It's just that I'm stuck here until Maia or Luke comes, and we're getting awfully bored."

Clary smiled. "Of course we'll stay, in fact, Jace, go fetch us some meat pies to eat and we'll make a day of it all." Clary shoved some coins in Jace's hands and shooed him out the door. As he went Clary turned back to Isabelle. "I don't know what I'm going to do with these two."

"You love Jace," Isabelle said simply. "You know you won't ever leave him, so don't trouble yourself over much. The boys will learn to accept each other."

When Jace returned, meat pies in hand, they pulled up chairs around the counter and ate. Isabelle and Max burst to life with company around them, and a few hours passed unnoticed. It wasn't until the light was beginning to darken that the door opened. Isabelle rose to greet them, but it was Maia who arrived, loosed harassed. She saw Jace and Clary and sighed in relief.

"I was hoping to find you all," she said, plopping down. "It's been hell up at the Clave. I've been running around for hours, listening to testimonies, bringing copies, writing up reports. Thank the Angel Luke sent me out for a break."

"How's it going up there?" Clary asked at once. "Why such a frenzy?"

"Well, I'm sure you already know…Jocelyn, Luke, and Magnus told the Clave that Jonathan is raising an army. It didn't go well, either. Mostly it was the shock, I think. It's taken all day for the Clave to believe them, and then Jai showed up, going on about how one of her watches came across a demon. The place is in an uproar."

"Is it war?" Jace pressed.

"I haven't heard," Maia sighed. "Luke told me to wait for him here; he said he'd be back with news by tomorrow morning. By the sounds of it, though, I'd say the Clave is thinking that way. There was talking of calling the Downworlder factions together for a meeting tomorrow."

"What do we do?" Clary asked, turning to Jace with wide eyes. Any decision the Clave made wouldn't be announced for weeks to the public, and if Clary knew anything, it was that knowledge was the greatest weapon. "Where should we go?"

Jace considered Clary a long moment. "We'll go to your mother's house to wait; she'll know the Clave's plan."

Clary looked outraged at the thought of going to her mother for anything, but she knew Jace was right. With a troubled sigh, he rose and gathered up her cloak and daggers, making a bow to Isabelle, Max, and Maia. "We'll tell you as soon as we hear anything."


	7. Coming Home

**Hey everyone, sorry I'm posting one these notes so late in the week, but I don't think I'll be able to post the next chapter for this on Tuesday like I usually do. I'm smack in the middle of finals and I've been buried in chem and physics for most of the week. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up sometime later hopefully by Friday.**

Coming Home

Clary shivered as she stood before the door to her mother's house, and it wasn't that cold that shook her. Jace, who stood beside her, reached out and drew her into his warm embrace, draping his cloak about her shoulders as well. "I suppose I should have known my mother would live like this; she is technically a dignitary. I suppose after all those times she told me she had room for us to stay with her…"

Jace silenced Clary with a firm kiss. He knew how much she must have hated to come here, how much she would hate having to come to her mother to ask for news, like a dog scrounging for scraps behind a house. "It's not that we've come to live with her, only to ask her for news of the Clave."

"She'll want us to stay," Clary warned, her hand going to her dagger unconsciously.

"Then, I shall most certainly take you home," Jace said simply. "Come, you have the key your mother gave you, we might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait."

As Jace said, Clary did have a key that her mother had given her when they first reunited, before Jocelyn knew how much Clary despised her. Clary had tossed it in the bottom of her chest and left it there for many months, hoping to leave her mother there as well. Now, she plucked the key off the chain she'd wound about her belt and tried to door. It swung forward with a weak groan, and cool breeze brushed out. When they peeked in, they were met by only darkness and silence.

"Your mother had been gone awhile, it seems," said Jace as he ushered her over the threshold and into the foyer. On the wall was a rune stone in a bracket, and when Jace picked it up, the stone burst into green light. "Let's find the kitchen and start a fire; I think it's warmer outside than in."

Clary had never been in her mother's house before, and was now regretting it. She and Jace shared two rooms, a single fireplace, and a small sitting area; her mother had feathered herself quite a nest living in the ring of houses where the council members lived. Her home was two stories, with two baths, a living room, a kitchen, three bedrooms, and a private study. Faced with the enormity after almost five months in two rooms, Clary felt at a loss. They left the foyer to the right, and came upon the living room area, from the circle of light, Clary could see a hearth, but there was no wood. They passed through the living room and were met by a set of wooden stairs that led up, and a door into a spacious kitchen. Clary found the cooking stove sequestered in a tidy corner by a wash tub and lit a fire.

"Perhaps we should have given more thought to living with your mother," mused Jace, smiling over at Clary.

She didn't appreciate the joke. "It would have been as bad as the castle."

Jace shot Clary a searching when she wasn't looking, and wondered what thoughts might be passing through her mind. He understood now that Clary blamed her mother for much of the abuse she suffered. Jocelyn had left her alone with a father she knew was cruel and brother she knew was sick. The bitterness was well deserved, but Jace also thought that it wasn't healthy for Clary to harbor such hate.

_What was it Lewis said? When all you care about is war, and forget to be grateful for a mother's who's alive, you've spent too much time with these people, _thought Jace uncomfortably. _Am I to blame for this rift between mother and daughter? She's not _just _a warrior after all; she's a wife and daughter, maybe one day a mother. _

Again, Jace found himself watching Clary moving bleakly about the kitchen, inspecting dishes and preserves, and found the image too depressing. He liked Clary best when she was lively and laughing, when her face was rosy and her eyes glowing with some distant memory. This darkness didn't suit her very well. "Clary, let's have a look around, shall we? Your mother must keep some interesting books in her study."

Clary gave him a hopeless smile. "Anything to end this boredom."

They set off, and Clary, on a whim, passed back into the living room, this time with a small candle to light the fire in the hearth. As a warm glow spread across the room illuminating the shelves on the walls, and chairs and couches, and the mantle of the fire. Clary glanced about, her curiosity getting the better of her, and her eyes landed on a familiar blanket folded on the couch.

"I remember this," Clary said distantly, drawing Jace's attention. She crossed the room and fingered the frayed edges of a very old blanket. "My mother made this especially for Jonathan and me when we were children. When we used to spend whole days outside playing and picnicking, my mother would bring this and spread it on the ground and watch us."

Jace joined Clary, and after a look her way, took the blanket and shook it out. He could tell just by looking at it that it had gone many months without use. There were dust creases in the folds, and color was dimmed by time, and there was an unmistakable air of disuse that hung about the poor thing. He smiled, though, as he studied the intricate pattern that Jocelyn had woven for her children. There were two children on the blanket, a boy and girl, wearing little crowns, running through fields of tall grass, flower beds, splashing through rivers, climbing trees.

"I don't think your mother has had much time for picnicking and playing since she came here. Perhaps she'll give it to you, if you ask?" Jace ran his hand over the little girl in the blanket, her red hair streaming out behind her, and her face glowing. "You look very happy in this."

Clary smirked and snatched the blanket back, tossing it carelessly over the couch. "That was a long time ago, a different life. Besides, we've plenty blankets you and I, and I don't think I'll need this one." _I don't want it, I don't want her worthless little things; let her keep them, let her cling to the past. _Still, Clary felt oddly empty when she shrugged off the thing. It was, after all, her past, the only past she had to look back on fondly. "What are you looking at?" Clary asked suddenly when she saw Jace returned to the mantle.

He was holding something up to the light of the fire, smiling sadly. "You're hands were so small, Clary." It was a piece of dry parchment with two sets of palm prints on it, one in red one in green. The red ones were adult hands, much larger than the small green ones that messily marked the paper. "Who taught you to spell?"

Clary eyed the paper, recalling a memory from a lifetime ago. "My…mother, she taught me to spell my name. It was the first word I ever learned."

Jace's eyes sparkled. "You really did have the tiniest hands, Clary, really, like doll hands. Your first painting," he declared proudly.

"Hardly. We just used to do it for fun when we were cooped up inside on rainy days. Jonathan and I were a nightmare," Clary began, and her voice held a spark of fondness. "We used to run all over the place, chasing each other, playing hide and seek, chasing Luke around. My mother used to have us sit by the big bay window and paint to pass the time while she read aloud."

"Jonathan too?" Jace was surprised that he had ever been a boy, let alone a rambunctious kid who painted.

"Oh, yes," Clary said, still staring at her own hands. "He and I were quite a pair when we were young. He'd play with those toy soldiers my father got him, until I'd knock them over with a doll, and he'd run off with her, saying he was going to tear her arms off or something."

"Sounds like him," mused Jace.

"He never did." Clary blinked suddenly, her eyes darting to Jace's with a strange look in them. "He always said he would, but I'd scream and cry and sob, and then he'd come back with my doll. He'd apologize and say he didn't mean it, that he wouldn't break my things. All those times he took her, and he never hurt her…"

Jace frowned. "When he was a boy he was different is all, but then he grew up and your father got a hold of him." Still, the idea of a kind Jonathan, a _brotherly _Jonathan, didn't sit with Jace's image of him.

"I don't know," Clary murmured. "When we were little Jonathan was…well, he was my brother. He was my best friend when we were children, my playmate and confidante, too. He could read before me, so the nights when my parents were away he would come to my room and read to me by candle light until I fell asleep. We'd steal food under our nursemaid's eye, and then we'd hide under his bed and eat together. He showed me how to feed a horse so it wouldn't bite me, and how to build a little sailboat of sticks and leaves to float on the pond by our house. Once in a while, when there were storms and I couldn't sleep, I'd sleep in his bed."

"Jonathan?" Jace asked incredulously. "The same Jonathan who killed your father and is even now trying to find us? He read to you at night and let you sleep next to him when you were scared?"

Clary nodded listlessly. "He wasn't always the way he is now. I don't know what happened, I don't know what changed him, but we grew up and he grew all dark and angry. My brother is dead."

Comfortingly, Jace drew Clary against him. "Perhaps Valentine is to blame for all this? Once your mother was gone, it was his job to raise you and Jonathan, and maybe he was just too cruel?"

"It's still her fault," Clary whispered. "If she hadn't left us Jonathan wouldn't be the way he is now. Jonathan wasn't supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be my brother, but she made him this way!"

"Well, maybe, when all this is over, your mother will be able to make him better?" offered Jace quickly. "Maybe, if Jonathan lives, she'll be able to heal him. Is that what you want?"

"I don't know anymore," Clary shook her head. "He was horrible to me, he hurt me and humiliated me, he made my life miserable. He tried to hurt you too! But-but he's still my brother, isn't he? So, what kind of sister does that make me that I hate my own brother?"

"It's not your fault, Clary," Jace reasoned.

"No, it's my mother's fault!" Clary said loudly. "If she hadn't gone away, if she hadn't left us, Jonathan wouldn't be this way, and then I wouldn't feel this way. I wouldn't have this horrible urge to kill him. But I do." She pressed herself against Jace and he felt her shudder painfully. "I'm a monster."

"No!" Jace drew Clary out, and took her chin in his hand, forcing her eyes into his. "Of all the things you are, Clary, a monster isn't one of them. You're a good woman, a wonderful friend, and a loving wife. Whatever _this _is," Jace said, vaguely, waving his hands around, "doesn't make you a monster, it's just made you tired, that's all. Please, believe me."

Jace watched Clary's eyes fall and then she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I believe you."

"Good, I'm not going to have my wife thinking she's some monster. A monster doesn't get to be loved like you." Jace kissed her and then put the parchment back. "How about we go up to your mother's study? Find something to read?"

"I'd like that," Clary's muffled voice said from Jace's chest, and he drew her away and up the stairs. As they went, the runelights came to life, and they could just barely appreciate the polished wooden floors, the paneled walls, the intricate sconces that contained the lights. They passed by two rooms with doors open and saw empty beds and care closets, and assumed they were guest rooms. There was a detailed bathroom with a tiled floor that they glimpsed, and it was much larger than a single woman would ever need. The only door they saw closed must have been Jocelyn's room, because the open door at the end of the hall was to the study. "It's very empty here," Clary observed.

"Perhaps that why your mother wanted us to live with her?" Jace said thoughtfully, and then found the grate in the study and lit a fire. "She's got quite a collection of books."

It was true. Jocelyn had a private library to herself, and many of the books looked well worn, the way books were supposed to look. Someone, maybe Jocelyn, had loved them enough to read them again and again, and Clary felt her fingers itching to open one of them. Jace was mildly impressed by the collection and wondered if this was where the life of this empty house was.

"Well, pick something out, little one, and start reading." Jace pressed gently on the small of Clary's back. "Maybe your mother has one of those books Magnus sent around. I know you finished that poem one."

"_The Tempest?_ It wasn't a poem, Jace," Clary grumbled, but Jace just laughed and pushed her onward. She began to pick through the shelves, her eyes glancing off most of the titles. Her discussion concerning Jonathan had put her in a melancholy mood, and even Jace's s wasn't going to win her over. "Find me another work of Shakespeare."

Jace frowned; he worried about Clary when she sank into these moods. He was often reminded of the distant, sad girl he had first met. If he had any purpose left in life, he knew it was to keep Clary happy and as far from that girl as possible. "A comedy then, to pass the time."

As Jace passed about the room, looking for something funny or beautiful, Clary sat down in the chair behind her mother's desk. She leaned back, crossing her arms fitfully and tapped her foot. There was paperwork on the desk, some maps tossed haphazardly about, and she picked them up, curious. She was surprised to see that the majority of the maps weren't of Idris.

_Look at these places…_Clary thought wondrously. She saw the small, familiar land that marked her home written in loopy lettering, but all around Idris were countries she had never heard of. Idris it seemed was tucked into the huge Holy Roman Empire, bordered by the massive France. Even farther to the west was a place with the exotic name Spain, and to the north was England. Clary tried these names out, muttering them to herself. She traced the shapes of the lands, her fingers resting on England and Spain. Spain was separated from Idris by many mountains, and England by a body of water.

Clary dug around the desk a bit more and came across more maps, these ones, maps of these strange countries. She first pulled up France, smiling at the strange names of cities she'd never heard of: Calais on the coast, Lorraine on the border, Paris. Her eyes skimmed over the others and moved on to England, resting on London. Clary had heard of London just in passing. Spain was the most interesting by far, and Clary wasn't even sure how to pronounce the names of all of them. Places like Aragon and Barcelona, yes, but she squinted in confusion at others.

Just looking at the maps forced Clary to admit that her knowledge of the world was wanting. She had grown up enclosed in the borders of Idris her entire life, she had never left as part of an envoy, never met the other royalty that existed, had never seen the oceans and gulfs that ringed the continent. She had never given much thought to other people since she had assumed she would spend the rest of her life in Idris, now she was faced with the concept of thousands of other people and places. Her ignorance brought a blush to her cheeks.

_This is Valentine's fault, _she thought bitterly, and tossed the maps aside. She leaned back, shaking with pent up anger and sadness. For some reason, Clary thought she was going to cry and, before Jace caught sight of her, she ducked back into the desk, prying to drawers open, keeping her face down.

She came across some notebooks, most of them with calculations or lists of supplies. However, when she shook the drawer in the bottom right corner open, a small compartment in the top of the desk fell open, and Clary was shocked to see a small, wooden box fall out. Cautiously, not sure what her mother might have worked and put in the box, Clary brushed her fingers over the lid. When nothing happened, Clary curled her fingers around the box and threw it onto the desk before some spell or rune came to life. However, the box remained firmly plain.

_Secrets, mother, and so unprotected? _Clary thought, and pushed the little lock into the open position.

Whatever Clary had been expecting, what she found inside wasn't it. In the dim light, Clary thought it might have been string, but when she plucked it up, she was shocked to find instead strands of thick, white hair, tied with a piece of string. Clary didn't have to guess whose hair it was her mother kept locked up tight, she recognized the pure white, straight, soft strands.

"Jonathan?" Clary whispered, staring in bewilderment.

"What?" asked Jace from across the room. He was trying to decide between two books and hadn't seen Clary picking about. "What did you say?"

Clary quickly put the hair back into the box, shoving it back in place under the desk. Her heart was pounding and her thoughts were race. "Nothing," she called to Jace, but her mind was in turmoil.

_She kept Jonathan's hair? She kept _his_ hair…but not mine? _The tears Clary had been fighting resurfaced with vengeance, but she pushed them down much easier this time. _So, that's it, isn't it? She loved Jonathan, her precious son, but not her daughter. I was just some mistake, some result of a lie. _Of course, it made sense when she thought about it. Jocelyn must have been in love with Valentine when she was pregnant with Jonathan, but by the time she'd had Clary, she certainly couldn't have been. _I'm just like Jace, I'm just some child of a loveless marriage. Expect his mother loved him. _A resounding thought drifted through her mind. _No one loved me. _If that was how it was, though, Clary was alright with it. _She didn't love me, so I don't have to love her. I guess it's good in a way, at least I know where we stand now._

"Are you alright, Clary?" It was Jace, and he was looking at her closely. He saw the bitterness in her eyes, the downturn of her lips. For all her anger, she looked delicate, as always. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Clary sharply. "I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine. What did you find to read?"

"Not Shakespeare, I'm afraid. Perhaps you'll settle for a true classic? _The Clouds_, by Aristophanes?" Jace showed her the dusty cover, and she shrugged carelessly. Jace frowned. "Clary, what's wrong with you? You look ready to cry."

"I'm fine, Jace," Clary said in hard voice. "By the Angel, I'm just bored is all!"

Jace nodded faintly, but he knew there was something more to it. Still, he nodded to the couch in the corner and the two settled there while Jace read aloud to pass the time. They had just reached the part where the son and father argue over the right of a father to punish his son, and his son the right to punish his father, when the sound of a door being flung open interrupted them. Clary, who had lost herself in Jace's voice returned to the world, and her anger at her mother with it.

"Shall we meet the lady of the house?" Clary asked, sneering at the door.

Jace set the book aside. "I can't see why not."

Jocelyn had entered her home tired, both physically and mentally; she'd been up with the Clave for more than twenty four hours, just going over testimonies, and the searching they had done in her head had left her drained. Her body felt rather empty, like everything inside her had shriveled up and died leaving behind a desert. As she stumbled up to her door, her one saving grace was that she had volunteered for her daughter, that in some way, she might have started to right the scales Clary had devised. Jocelyn knew her daughter held her accountable for something, Jace's wry hints had been enough to confirm that, but in the weeks since her arrival, Jocelyn hadn't had the time to talk much with Magnus. When she'd asked him, he'd looked harried.

"This isn't the time to discuss such things, let alone with me," he'd said in passing. "You'll need to speak with Clarissa, though the Angel knows if she's willing."

Since then, Jocelyn had been unsettled, and she was seeking some way to raise the subject. However, since Clary normally had a group of friends flanking her, Jocelyn was in no rush. She didn't know how much of the truth any of her friends knew, and she supposed Clary wasn't going to be willing to share anything before them. It would have been so much easier had Clary simply agreed to move into her home. There was plenty of room, and Jocelyn certainly wasn't going to stop Clary and Jace their marital rights. She just wanted Clary close to her again, and she just wanted to know what she'd done wrong.

However, these thoughts were chased from her mind when she entered her house and found it alive with light and warmth. Someone, or something, was there, and Jocelyn was to her wits end. She drew a blade, named it, then called out, "Show yourselves!"

Jocelyn crept carefully through her house, recalling her training from years ago, her blade at the ready. All around her, shadows moved, and her adrenalin kicked in; she could hear movement near her study. Jocelyn spun the knife and threw the door open, lunging ferociously.

"Mother!" Clary cried, stumbling back into Jace.

"Clary!" her mother called, falling back, feeling an instant burn of regret that she had attacked her daughter. "What are you doing here?"

Clary stared at the dagger, her anger at her mother returning, and she straightened up. "Not so pleased to see me?"

"Not at all," said Jocelyn, and she tucked the dagger away, smiling fleetingly. "I was just surprised to find that you had used the key I'd given you. Not that I'm not pleased, just curious. What are you doing here?"

"We've come for news," answered Jace before Clary could speak. "What has the Clave decided? Are we to go to war against Jonathan?"

Jocelyn sighed, looking about tiredly. "Come to the kitchen, I haven't eaten in two days. We'll speak more of this."

Clary wanted to tell her mother she could starve for all she cared, but she felt Jace's presence, and the reminder of the goodness he symbolized. He was, after all, her angel, the one thing in her life that was good and pure. Jace and Clary followed Jocelyn back down to the kitchen and sat at the table while Jocelyn prepared herself a small meal of cold meat and bread. When she joined them, they politely gave her time to eat, but Clary was anxious to hear the news and then be on her way.

"So, did the Clave believe you and Magnus and Luke?" pressed Clary.

"It took some time, many accounts from both my past and the recent events in the castle, but yes, eventually they were brought to see reason."

Both Jace and Clary released a pent up breath. Jace, remembering that Jocelyn had gone in Clary's stead, cleared his throat. "Then it seems we are in your debt."

Jocelyn just smiled sadly. "No, not really; I was simply doing what was right at the time. Since I was the one who gave the account, neither Clarissa nor Simon were forced to go before them. In fact, some good news has come of this, as well. It seems, while the Clave searched my memories, they found one of Clary having a slight fit over the news of Jonathan's army." When she smiled at her daughter, Clary just frowned back. She didn't being thought of as weak minded or unstable. Jocelyn sensed this, but had no choice but to go on. "They seem to think it is best to leave Clary out of this, and have told me that I might let you know they will not be calling you back any time soon."

"Aren't I the lucky one?" Clary said blandly. "Thank you, mother."

"More pressing matters are at hand," Jace cut in quickly. "Will they go to war now? Is the Clave going to mobilize?"

"Ah," said Jocelyn, "here's the tricky part. You see, the Clave is planning on rallying support and growing their army, however, shadowhunters do not, an army, make. You must see, as both a soldier and a duke yourself, the logistical problems this poses to the Clave?"

"Not entirely, no," said Jace. "We are soldiers."

"A different kind, though," explained Jocelyn. "Shadowhunters fight in small, organized...packs, if you will. We are _pack animals, _if I may use the term? We are trained to fight most effectively in small groups who move using stealth and agility, tracking and hunting demons; we are not an army. It has been many long ages since shadowhunters have gone to battle in the form of an army. The suggestion to raise an army has already met with some arguments."

"How can there be arguments?" demanded Clary. "Jonathan has an army, and to fight him, we'll need one too. They can't honestly think small groups of soldiers will be any use to an army. We'll be overwhelmed."

"I'm afraid there are some in the Clave who do." Jocelyn shook her head. "The counsel, for one, thinks that an army dynamic will be detrimental. He claims that we are trained best for stealth combat, and an army will upset hundreds of years of education and hierarchy we have worked to reproduce. After all, it is our unique fighting style that separated us from the humans. They fight wars, we fight demons."

"But the demons are now fighting a war," Jace urged. "Surely, you've told them this?"

"I did, but still, the Clave took a long time to come to any conclusions, and there is no settled agreement, either. The Clave has decided to begin designating the best trained soldiers as generals, to help the transition. Once the upper ranks have settled, they will release the news and the new system to the general public-"

"But that could take weeks!" Clary protested. "Besides, they can't just not tell everybody. Our people are in danger and they want them living in ignorance?"

"I'm afraid that was the decision of the Clave, Clarissa," Jocelyn said helplessly. "Once rank has been assigned, they will order the watches and begin preparing an assault on Jonathan's stronghold. However, the counsel is still pushing for stealth. He wants another team to be ready, just in case our army fails. The most elite of our ranks will travel back to Idris to attack Jonathan in his castle separately, hopefully putting an end to this. Until that time, though, we will sit and wait and defend our city."

Clary looked furious, but Jace spoke over her. "What of the Downworlders? Has the Clave extended them any offers if they join with us?"

"Few and far between," admitted Jocelyn bitterly. "Luke's pack is behind the Clave, which is good, since his is the largest, and he had promised to go as a liaison to the werewolf culture for us, hopefully raising support. Magnus is one of few warlocks and witches, and luckily for us, when they appointed him, they chose to follow his wisdom, so, as it stands, the magical community stands with us. Magnus, though, is no friend of the Clave, and if they keep pushing him, he could turn on them."

"Magnus wouldn't do that," Clary murmured. "He helped me my entire life. He helped both me and Jace escape from Valentine. Why would he allow Jonathan this?"

"Because Magnus is no fool, Clary. If the Clave is unwilling, or just plain foolish, he and his people will go. They owe us nothing, to be honest. Jonathan hasn't sworn to end their kind, and so they are safe." Jocelyn pressed her lips together. "He said, though, that if it comes to it, and we are scared, we may go with him."

Clary raised an eyebrow. They would certainly make an odd group. She and Jace, passionately in love, Alec, clearly intrigued by the warlock, Jocelyn, Clary's scape goat, and, of course, throw in Isabelle, Max, Luke, Maia, and Simon. "I hope the Clave doesn't offend him."

"Me too," agreed Jocelyn. "The vampires are still making considerations for us, since the Clave barely offered them better hunting grounds, and the Fair Folk are more likely than not going to side with the demons, if we're lucky, they might just choose not to fight at all. We are hard put to it now."

"So it seems," mused Jace. "I take it we don't have the weaponry or the supplies to support and pay an entire army?"

"Not even close." Jocelyn rubbed her temples. "There was muttering of cutting back on surplus, of rationing, and of course, people get worried. Some were thinking marshal law might be reinstated, and there's that fear to contend now, because it just might."

"Marshal law?" asked Jace, not liking the sound of it.

"Yes, in times of panic and great danger, the Clave declares marshal law to help maintain order. It was used during our war with Valentine, and no one was very fond of it." She saw Jace and Clary's curious looks. "A war council is named and put in charge of food, supplies, and sundry items, as well as hours of conduct. Normally, it's a time of rationing and strict curfew with stricter punishments. It keeps the people from going mad of terror, but no one likes being forced inside at seven in the evening for curfew."

"They can do that?" Clary said. "Did they do it before?"

"Yes, we're a different people during war time. Shadowhunters are so few in number now that we must think of both the war and our continued survival. Curfew is hard, but it does protect us from ourselves, though the Quartering Act was a little much as far as I'm concerned."

"Quartering Act?" asked Clary.

"It's nothing to concern yourselves with," assured Jocelyn quickly. "In fact, I wouldn't worry overmuch of this news either. The Clave is a few weeks out of announcing the war, until then, just go about your daily routines as if nothing has changed."

Jace looked uncomfortable. "I don't like the sound of this."

Jocelyn cast him a dry look. "It's war, Jace, no one likes the sound of it."


	8. Closing Time

**Alright, I'm hoping I'm back on track now, and I should be updating once a week again. Sorry this took so long!**

Closing Time

"Bring the blade up, yes-just like that," ordered Clary, watching Isabelle move through another position. "Remember to let the movement flow through you, you'll body will move the way it's supposed to if you let it."

Isabelle swung her curved sword about, an exhilarating feeling of power coursing through her. "I feel like I'm going too fast."

Clary laughed. "It's supposed to feel that way, Isabelle. Just trust your body to move."

"Or don't," offered Jace. "However, you'll find that the alternative is quite a bit more painful, and far more ungainly."

"Are you saying I'm not graceful, Mr. Herondale?" challenged Isabelle.

"I believe I used the word _ungainly_," he pointed out.

"I believe I am the one holding a weapon," replied Isabelle sweetly.

Jace cocked an eyebrow, but shrugged and returned to filing his nails with the point of his blade. Clary watched Isabelle finish the set and nodded her head approvingly. "You're doing wonderful, Isabelle. You're a natural if I've ever seen one. Perhaps in the upcoming battle, you may be allowed to fight."

"Do you really think so?" asked Isabelle oddly.

"I don't see why not. The Clave is in no position to turn away soldiers, especially ones with such natural ability. With the Downworlders on uncertain terms, and Jonathan practically knocking on our door, they're going to have to accept a little outside help." Clary drew her own weapon and faced off with Isabelle.

Isabelle, however, seemed troubled. "I didn't mean if I'd be allowed to fight. I meant, do you really think it will come to war against Jonathan? The Clave has been awfully quiet these last two weeks, and no one in the city has heard anything about war. I didn't believe you at first."

"That's the Clave being ridiculous," said Jace curtly. "They think the shadowhunter need to _transition _into the idea of war; that our people aren't suited to an army attacking us and they need to let us slowly comes to terms with the war."

"But they can't just not tell people," Isabelle said. "Eventually the news is going to get out, and I promise you, people will be all the more mad that they were kept in the dark. There's going to be one hell of a backlash from all of this."

"Be that as it may, neither Jace nor I have any position to be telling the world what we know." Clary turned away bitterly. "If the Clave gets news of my, shall we say, _recovery_, they might think another investigation is necessary. And if they start digging into my past, they'll starting finding things…" Slowly, Clary's gaze turned to Jace, and he knew she was thinking about her strange gift with runes, and the odd knowledge that Valentine had done something to him as well. "It's best we keep quiet for now."

Isabelle, though clearly in disagreement, shrugged and crossed her blade with Clary. "Well, I'll have to be ready with a blade anyway."

Clary smiled and leaped into action while Jace watched. He was still considering what Isabelle had said, and, more importantly, what Clary had said. A feeling of something like anger had been lurking in his mind since he had learned the truth about himself. Though he didn't even know what he could do, though he didn't even know why Valentine had done what he had done, he felt as if he'd been used. While he was still in the womb, Valentine had changed him, _marked _him as his own creation, and it made him furious.

_You've got more important things to think about right now then a dead man, _he reminded himself, and turned his focus back on Clary and Isabelle.

Clary was right, Isabelle was a gifted fighter; she seemed suited to holding a weapon. Had she been born a shadowhunter, she would have been the pride of any mother and father. Instead, though, she was the daughter of a farmer, and she was just now learning the art of battle. He watched Isabelle whip around, deflecting one of Clary's blows and then jump back, landing perfectly on her toes. Clary, though, was not the daughter of Valentine for nothing, and she lunged forward, performing a complicated hand maneuver, and reached into Isabelle's defenses.

Jace smiled to himself. _Watching Clary fight is definitely something my father called…arousing. _

"Well done, Isabelle," Jace said, standing and joining them. "A few more months and you're going to be in your prime. Probably just in time to join the battle."

"Only if you two come along," Isabelle said firmly.

Clary and Jace exchanged dark looks and Clary cleared her throat, sensing Jace's frustration. "Jace and I are not allowed in battle."

"What?" Isabelle looked shocked.

"Of all the people they could use-"

"We are too young. Jace won't be eighteen for at least six months, and I'm a year younger than him. We must be eighteen before the Clave allows us to fight."

"But I could?" asked Isabelle. "That doesn't make much sense."

"The Clave does not rule mankind, only the shadowhunters. We must obey their laws," Jace said, not thinking very much of the Clave's law. "By your standards, you are already an adult, and you may do as you like. We are bound by our oaths."

"But you're the best warrior I know!" Isabelle argued. "I've seen you fight Jonathan."

"It doesn't matter," Clary shook her head. "There is a rank to follow, and Jace and I are at the bottom."

They returned to the city, still speaking of the laws that ruled them. Isabelle watched as they approached the training center where Jace and Clary usually went to receive their orders for the day. It was a large building, with tall, metal fencing surrounding it. Across the top of the entrance gate, written in worn lettering, was _The Institute_. Part of Isabelle wondered what went on behind those gates, wondered what it would be like to pass beneath the walls and enter a world of demons and angels.

"I suppose you two are off to battle?" she smiled playfully. "I'll be behind the counter of a desk, _again_."

"We'll find you and Max after we finish our Watch," promised Clary, and she and Jace left her.

Isabelle made her way to the bookstore Luke owned, feeling pleased with herself at her practice. She felt like a grown woman when she got to feel the hilt of a knife in her hands, she felt like she wasn't a farmer.

_Is that what you want? To forget who you were? _Isabelle wondered as she went. She knew the answer to that, and it was yes. She wanted to forget who she had been born; she wanted to forget the farm land, the dirt, the grass, the strangling poverty. She wanted to be a woman like Clary, and she didn't care how far she had to go. _The faster the better._

Isabelle arrived at the bookstore, entering to the familiar smell of musty book pages and age. "Maia! Maia, I'm here."

"Thank the Angel," Maia sighed, emerging from the shelves, tossing her wild curls out of her face. "I think the little lord was going mad."

"Little lord?" asked Isabelle, peeking beyond Maia's shoulders. She could just see the all too recognizable form of Simon's back. A small flame unfurled in Isabelle's belly and licked up her insides, turning her bland face into a small smile. "You mean Simon."

"Oh, Simon, is it?" Maia asked, but then laughed. "He's been here for almost an hour, and he didn't ask, but I know he's been waiting for you to show up. I think he fancies you."

"Do you?" asked Isabelle playfully. "Do you really?"

"Don't even, girl. You and I both know you're dragging him along, but I'm only curious as to why." Maia gave her a shrewd look.

Isabelle drew back a little, making sure Simon couldn't hear them. "What are you saying?"

Maia laughed. "What am I saying? Isabelle, wherever you go, you have men who follow you. Whatever you say, you have the ear the gentlemen around you. You could have the pick of any man here, and yet you have Simon trailing after you like a lost puppy."

"I don't ask him to follow me."

"Yet you don't stop him," pointed out Maia. "Have you kissed him?"

Isabelle blinked blankly. "Would it matter if I had?"

"It only matters if it means something. I know you're a bit…free when it comes to the boys around you. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing! I like a bit of fun too. I'm just saying, if it means something to you to kiss him, if it makes you feel better than all those others, you should take care to keep it."

There was something in Maia's voice that made Isabelle think she was speaking from experience. "Those other men, they are nothing. Just a playful waste of time. Simon is…well, he's more than them. I just don't know what."

Maia looked over to Simon. "Well, were I you, I'd figure it out. He's not going to moon after you for the rest of your life."

Isabelle meant to roll her eyes playfully, but something in Maia's voice resonated with her on a deeper level, and she just nodded faintly. "I just…don't want to be a farm girl at the end of the day."

"Isabelle," Maia laughed, reaching out and taking her shoulders. "At the end of the day, if you are anything, it's certainly not a farm girl. Now, go see to this heartbroken lord of yours. I'll be working with Luke for the rest of the day over at the pack hunting grounds. Send a message if you need me."

Isabelle watched Maia go, and smiled a little to herself; she'd never thought that in all her life, she'd have a friend who was a werewolf. _Neither did you think you'd have a lord courting you,_ she reminded herself, and turned to join Simon.

For a moment, Isabelle studied Simon from behind a shelf. He was tall, maybe a little gangly out of his finery, with messy brown hair and a pair of what might have been pretty eyes behind glasses. He was, Isabelle thought, what a lord was supposed to be: a little aloof to the real world, more caught up in his books and figures. He'd clearly spent a great deal of his life protected and pampered, and it gave him a rather charming innocence Isabelle was intrigued by. She had only ever known men who were bred hard and ready, men who were made of earth and fire. This strange, gentle man was an anomaly.

"Simon, I sometimes think that you would live in this store," said Isabelle, smiling a coy little smile.

"I'm fond of books," agreed Simon, but he knew he's be just as fond of knitting supplies if Isabelle worked in a yarn shop. "However, I am pleased to see you. I don't think Maia likes me that much."

"Maia is that way with everyone who's not Pack." Isabelle crossed Simon's path and took her place behind the desk. She could feel Simon's eyes on her. "What have you been doing today?"

"Mostly just listening for news, and I've been offered a position as a teacher at the school." Simon watched for Isabelle's reactions. "I am rather fond of children, so I think I might take it."

"You enjoy children?" laughed Isabelle, but she thought Simon would be a good father. He seemed like the type of man who would raise a son well. Simon was blushing thought. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Simon. I adore children myself."

"You're Max's mother," Simon said softly.

"Someone had to be," Isabelle said, just as softly. "Since my parents were killed, it's been hard on him. Luckily, Alec survived too, or I think he'd be a bit hopeless."

"He seems rather fond of Jace," Simon said before he could stop himself.

"Yes," agreed Isabelle. "He's just fond of soldiers. He wants to be a shadowhunter one day."

"Like you?" asked Simon swiftly.

Isabelle fixed Simon would a hard look. "I want to be the farthest I can be from a farmer. Sometimes, I can look at Clary and see an amazing, powerful woman, and that's all I want. I just want to be someone who's powerful enough to be my own self."

"Isabelle," Simon said, somewhat shocked. "I think you are your own person, I think you are the most amazing young woman I have ever met. I don't think you have to _try _to be as amazing as Clary."

Isabelle looked up, grinning through a curtain of hair. "That's the kindest thing I've had someone say to me in a long while, Simon, and from a lord, no less."

"I'm certainly no lord," shrugged Simon. "At least, not anymore."

"Just because you lose your title doesn't mean you stop being who you were born. If you want to change that, you must change yourself." Isabelle ran her eyes over him. "Do you want to change who you are?"

Simon felt uncertain. He had never thought he would change who he was; he had been born a lord, and he had thought he would die a lord. Now, sitting in a secret city run by shadowhunters, in a bookshop owned by a werewolf, talking with the most beautiful woman he had ever met, Simon didn't think he knew who he was then, let alone changing who he was. "To be honest? I feel a little lost, like I've taken a step only to find no ground below me. I just want to be comfortable here. I suppose if that requires me to change, I will."

* * *

When Clary and Jace arrived at the training fields, seeking out Jai, they knew something had gone amiss. Soldiers were running about frantically, weapons were out in the open, there was a sense of tension ringing in the air. Clary and Jace exchanged worried looks and went to find Sebastian and Rosa. Through the crowd they went, passing by a few harried looking rangers who gave them tired smiles. Clary got the feeling the Clave might have released some new information.

"Seb!" Jace called, spotting his familiar head of dark hair and his lopsided smile. "Hey, what's going on?"

Sebastian and Rosa were armed to the teeth, leaning against the wall, looking thoroughly bored. When they saw Jace and Clary approaching, Sebastian smiled wide. "Excellent! We were waiting around for you guys. There's been a few more demon spottings since the meeting, and the Clave has decided to send us out on longer Watches. We're going to be doing some real hunting."

Clary shivered with excitement. "Do we need to pack?"

"Probably," said Rosa, again, disliking the prospect of Clary being with her for extended periods of time. "They mentioned that most of the Watches will be extended, probably two day ranges, camping on the outskirts of the city."

"It's going to be great!" Sebastian exclaimed. "Think of the four of us, we're some of the best the Clave has got, and we're going to be tracking demons for days. You're going to have to show us a thing or two, Clary."

Jace grinned to himself. "Sounds like we're finally doing some real work."

Rosa shot Clary and dark look when no one was watching. The idea of being out in the wild with Clary, making eyes at Jace, for days on end was not her idea of a good time. "Think we're going to have to be a bit more serious," she said to Sebastian.

However, Sebastian and Jace seemed to have the same train of thought. "How much time have we spent trapped in this city? And finally, the Clave says we can go out and actually do something. There's been talk of taking back the city."

"Taking the city?" Jace asked, eyes glinting.

"Yes," Sebastian said rapidly. "The thought is that if we can drive out any darkness, any danger, we can reestablish the demon towers, raise the guards, and reclaim the city. Imagine it, taking back Alicante. To live above ground again, unafraid of Valentine."

Clary's heart leapt when she recalled her vow to see the city returned to former glory. After all the darkness her father had brought, she needed to earn honor for the name Morgenstern. "It would be glorious," she said softly.

"It's been so long since there was talk of leaving the city as it is," said Rosa wistfully. "I've dreamed of traveling for years, ever since I was a little girl, and now, this is the start."

Clary gave her a surprised look. "You wish to travel too? I've seen maps of countries far beyond Idris, of cities and oceans, and places I only dreamed of. I want to visit them."

Rosa raised her eyebrows. "Well, I meant just explore Idris, but I suppose the world is a plausible adventure."

"So," said Jace. "When do we leave? I take it we'll be some of the first out of the city?"

Sebastian nodded hopefully. "I'd expect so, seeing as we're the best. You should go pack a few days worth of clothing and weapons. They're giving us food and water here."

Jace gave Clary and quick look and they turned and raced back through the Institute. A few of the men and women who watched movement of the Clave like hawks marked the two shadowhunters with interest. It was generally accepted that if the Clave was on the move, they had to be watched carefully. After all, it was the Clave who had offered them this protection before, it was Clave who even now protected the boarders of the land. If they were mobilizing certainly the common folk would too?

When Clary and Jace reached their small home, Clary's face was flushed with the run and the excitement. "I can't believe they're actually sending us out! I thought it was so dull, so pointless, for us to just protect the entrances to the city. It's been so long since I've had a real challenge."

Jace smiled at Clary's child-like pleasure. "Well, it should certainly make our lives a bit more interesting. I'm glad the Clave has admitted that we need a bit more of an offensive front."

"As long as we're getting practice before the war, that's all that matters." Clary was packing pants and shirts as quickly as she could into a canvas bag. She considered the winter weather and added warm socks. "Do you think there are many of them out there now that Jonathan has released them? Do you think we'll be doing much fighting?"

Jace shrugged. "It'll be better than just wandering around the forest waiting for something to happen. One can only hope," he added, smiling faintly.

As Clary dug through her trunk she found the cloak Jace had given her, and she smiled into it. It had been one of her few possessions that had given her strength in her life. Clary tossed the cloak over her shoulder and turned to face Jace. When he saw her in it, his eyes softened.

"It suits you," he murmured and then nodded to the door. "The sooner we get back, the sooner we can leave."

As soon as they returned to the Institute, they found Sebastian and Rosa and the four went to find Jai and, hopefully, leave on an assignment. She was ordering a few men and women to organize rations for Watches, and when she spotted them, something like a frown creased her face. "Ah, I suppose you have come for your assignment?"

"Well, we thought we might as well put our skills to use as soon as possible," said Sebastian reasonably. "We're all packed and ready to go."

Jai glanced at their bags. "I can see that." There was something in her voice that spoke volumes.

"Do you have a place for us to go yet?" pressed Rosa. "We're all more than ready to head out."

Again, Jai seemed uncomfortable and she pursed her lips. "Listen, let's take this out of the training room; it's too loud in here, and if I'm going to talk about your assignment, it probably shouldn't be here."

Jace and Sebastian shot each other excited looks, and Clary felt her pulse race a little. Being pulled aside for their own mission…for a moment, Clary wondered if it had anything to do with the consul and his request to train a small contingent of shadowhunters who would return to Idris to personally make sure Jonathan was dead. They left the training room and Jai led them, of all places, to a library. It was silent, only used for meetings and when the older members of the Clave needed to call upon long forgotten texts. Jai directed them to a secluded corner and waited while they situated themselves.

"So, I assume you've all heard about the longer Watches?" she asked, arms crossed.

"It's about time," Sebastian sighed dramatically. "How long have we had to wait for this? If all it took were a few extra demon spottings, I would have lied ages ago."

"This isn't a joke, Sebastian," warned Jai, silencing any laughter. "The fact that demons have been reported is concerning enough, the fact that it's been so common now is more so. But that's not why I called you here."

"Something more?" Rosa asked, and Clary got a strange feeling in her gut.

"The Clave has been keeping their secrets well, but they're recently released some new information to us. Some new orders for our Watches." Here, Jai's eyes unerringly landed on Jace and Clary. "Apparently, the Clave would like to mobilize an army."

Sebastian and Rosa's mouths dropped in surprise. "We haven't used army techniques since our war with Valentine, and even then, it was only loosely based on ancient Roman style," said Sebastian. "Why the change now?"

"A new threat has risen, and it seems the best way to handle it is to organize ourselves into ranks."

"Something worse than demons?" laughed Rosa, but she saw the darkness in Jai's eyes and knew it was more serious than that. "What exactly are we dealing with?"

"I get the feeling this isn't news to everyone?" Jai stopped pretending to ignore Clary and Jace's blank faces and turned the full power of her stare on them. "Would you two care to share a bit?"

"We can't," Jace said simply, guardedly. "The Clave wouldn't like it if we went spilling its secrets to every shadowhunter who asked. They're already upset with us enough."

"What do you know?" pressed Sebastian, nudging Jace in a brotherly fashion.

"Nothing I'm allowed to share, and nothing I have a care to speak of," he answered shortly.

Rosa watched Clary's carefully constructed face, but she caught a faint memory of something dark pass behind the girl's otherwise mask-like face. "If it's not demons, what is it?"

"Valentine is dead," Jai said, still keeping her eyes on Jace and Clary. "Murdered by his son, Jonathan. It seems this Jonathan is picking up where his father left off, but he's taking a much more forward approach."

Rosa and Sebastian turned looks on Clary in astonishment. "You never mentioned a brother," accused Rosa.

"It never came up," said Clary indifferently. "Besides, as far as I was concerned, any family I had under the name Morgenstern died when I married Jace. Jonathan is no brother of mine."

"But you still knew he was there," pointed out Sebastian.

"So did the Clave," Jace said before Clary panicked. "They've known since Jocelyn arrived, the only reason it matters now is because he's made himself king."

"King of a _very _dangerous army," Jai cut in. "They say Jonathan has built up an army of demons, and these demons can travel by day. They say the demons are looking for us, and so we must rise up in defense."

"It's why they're extending our Watches," breathed Sebastian. "They need to keep the city a secret until we launch a full scale attack on Jonathan. They need to make sure he's blind until it's too late."

"That," agreed Jai, "and they need to develop ranks, they need to train a formal army, they need order. If they start with the rangers, the Clave hopes to promote leaders who will have already proven themselves within the Clave. That way, they hope to ease the transition into a more formal army."

"So what have we got to do with that?" Rosa asked.

Jai rolled her eyes. "You are some of my best rangers, I've already put your names in for promotion. If all goes well over the next few months, you'll be leading your own contingencies come our attack on Jonathan. This is just a test."

There was a slight pause and then Sebastian whooped with joy. "Leading an army against demons? This is brilliant, isn't it Jace? You and I can fight side by side, just like now, only-"

"Not so fast, Sebastian," Jai said swiftly. "This may be wartime, but the Clave still has laws."

"What do you mean?" asked Clary, her heart already sinking.

"I'm sorry," Jai said at once, and Jace opened his mouth to argue. She held up her hand before he could get the first word out. "If there were any way I could convince them to let you, I would, but Jace and Clary aren't adults yet. They can't lead…they can't even fight."

"You must be joking," Sebastian said slowly. "Jace and Clary are the best I've seen."

"I said as much to the Clave, but they're uninterested in having two children risking their lives in a war. The Clave had made very clear that you two can't be a part of this- _any _of this."

"You mean the Watches?" guessed Jace bitterly. "Clary and I aren't allowed to leave the city anymore, are we? We're not allowed to be rangers anymore?"

"No, nothing that drastic," Jai shook her head. "I can't have you two as active members though. You're going to have to be reassigned until you come of age. Once you turn eighteen…"

"That's six months away for me!" Jace snapped. "By the time I come of age, we'll be in the middle of the war, I'll be some foot soldier. And Clary! She's even younger than me. She'll never even draw her sword-"

"Jace, I wish it were different, but it's not. I can't have you here, I can't pay you a salary as long as you're fighting for work I can't give you. This is the Clave talking-not me."

"Then what do we do?" demanded Clary. "We can't fight, so what do we do? Do we sit in healing houses, practicing healing runes? Do we mind the children and elders? Prepare the rations for hungry soldiers and wash the worn rags? I have seen and done more than _any_ of you, and yet, I am to be demoted to maid? Where is there honor or courage in that?"

"You're both being reassigned to education," Jai said curtly. "You're skills, as I've explained, are too well honed to be wasted, so you're going to be sent to teach the next generation of soldiers how to fight. The moment you turn eighteen, I'll have you enlisted and you can apply for a position of leadership. Until then, you'll be staying at the school."

"Teaching children?" Jace said it like a curse. "After everything we've done, we have to _teach children_?"

"I don't write the law, Jace, I just obey it," Jai said helplessly. "It's the best I could do, seeing as apparently the Clave thinks your wife is unstable and you, as you've put it, aren't on good terms with them. They thought you should be given mandatory leave until whatever it is the Clave doesn't like about you was resolved.

_The Clave thinks Clary is unstable? _wondered Rosa, giving the girl a strange look. _I knew the Morgensterns were crazy, but actually, mentally unstable? _This gave Rosa some strange pleasure. _Maybe Jace pities her._

Clary was flushing, but Jace took her hand in his and spoke over her. "My horse is more intelligent than the Clave, and a fair bit more observant. If they think making us teach little kids how to hold a sword is going to help-"

"It's not my call," Jai said, and there was some finality in her voice. "Until you're eighteen, I can't use you. I'm sorry, but you can't stay here."


	9. Bells of War

Bells of War

Clary watched a young woman with her golden hair tied in braids swing a sword around elegantly, but as she finished the turn, her swing had too much energy and she over balanced. For a moment, it seemed she might have been dexterous enough to pull herself back onto her feet, but then she threw her free arm out, hoping to stop her fall, and the weight was too much. Clary watched the fall and sighed inwardly. The girl was certainly no Isabelle, and she didn't seem to have any interest in bettering her skills. They had gone through the same routine twice.

"You can't throw yourself into the movement, Eliza" Clary called from her place by the wall. "You have to keep your center of gravity while you go through the motions, and if you think you're going to fall, _don't _just throw your arms out. If you panic, you'll fall."

The girl tossed her braids out of her hair and gave Clary a proper glare. Eliza was fifteen, had four inches on Clary, and considered herself a fair bit more attractive; with her classmates watching her, she felt annoyance building up inside her for the short, red haired girl. "I wasn't panicking."

"Whatever you were doing, it landed you on the floor." Clary pulled herself from the wall and offered Eliza a hand. She spurned it and jumped to her feet, looking down at her instructor. "Do the set one more time."

"I've done it _three times-_"

"And you've fallen _three times _so do it again. If you're in the heat of battle, and your seconds away from death, you can't just get back up when you fall. You'll be dead." Clary knew she was being cruel, but she felt bitter and frustrated, and besides, the girl didn't respect what fighting entailed. "Once more, and if you can't do it, you'll take that lessons home to work on."

Eliza heard a whispering go through the six other students in her class, and she shot them all warning looks. Until Clary had come along, she had been marked as one of the best in their group, now she was stumbling over her feet like a new filly. "I don't need to work on it at home. It's just one set, who cares if I can't do it?"

"I care," said Clary simply, turning her back and walking back to the wall. "Since I think it matters, as far as you're concerned, it does. Either do it here, or take a wooden sword home and practice."

"It's just pointless defense!" Eliza stormed. She wasn't going to be belittled by a girl one year her senior-especially not one so much shorter. "I need to learn to fight, not cower behind my blade."

Clary turned on her heel and gave the girl a patronizing smile. "If you call what you do fighting, you're better off cowering. Tell me, Eliza, have you been out with the Watches?"

Eliza pressed her lips together. "No."

"Have you killed a demon?"

"No."

"Have you drawn a blade against an opponent who intends you harm?"

"No."

"Then what makes you think you have any right to decide what you get to learn?" Clary suddenly turned her emerald gaze on the other students and they turned their eyes downward. "I _have _done those things, and I know what every shadowhunter must learn if they hope to survive in their world. I say defensive technique is what you need, so it's what you're going to learn."

When Eliza returned her gaze to Clary, she sized her up, wondering what might happen if she challenged her instructor. It wasn't uncommon, and it was one of the best ways to be promoted to a higher level of learning. However, as she studied the girl, she couldn't forget the rumors she'd heard: that Clary was Valentine's daughter, that she was a gifted swordswoman, she had been enlisted in the most elite of the Watches. She was a small thing, delicate in a way most shadowhunters weren't but there was no denying a certain presence of character that belied her appearance.

"As you'll have it," Eliza ground out, and then renewed her stance to try the set again.

The rest of the students turned their attention back on Eliza gratefully, happy to not have Clary's sharp gaze on them. She was a gifted student, they thought, but with the arrival of their new instructor almost two weeks ago, all their faults had been thrown into sharp relief. Most of them were just happy that they weren't being studied by Clary. As if on cue, Eliza turned too fast and threw herself out of balance, this was swiftly followed by Clary's voice.

"Alright, get back in line, when I see you tomorrow, you better have that set right," Clary said, annoyed. "Someone else, please, come up here and show me _something_."

The students exchanged nervous looks and finally pushed a young man forward. He lifted his chin in a silent challenge and began the set Eliza had failed. As Clary watched him, her thoughts drifted away to Jace, and, as usual, she completely forgot the students she was supposed to be educating. She and Jace had been playing the silly role of teachers for two weeks, and it had been wearing on both of them.

Clary longed for the freedom of riding her horse through the open forests that ringed the city. She could still taste the fresh air, still feel the wind rustling her hair, still see clear to the mountains that formed the natural barrier of the city. Being locked back beneath the ground, faced with the perpetual ungrateful students was like a blow to her chest. She hated it now, hated having to wake every morning with nothing but the prospect of showing some defensive maneuver to a gathering of children.

However, Clary knew that if she hated it, Jace was in hell. He hadn't taken the dismissal from the rangers well. For an entire night, he had sworn and yelled and cursed under his breath. For Jace, the Watches had been his only mode of escape, and his only reminder to himself that he was a shadowhunter. In one fell swoop, Jai had taken Jace's purpose from him, and dropped him in some school. They both suspected that Clary's mother had played some underhanded role in their demotion, but, since Jocelyn hadn't seen either of them since their visit to her house, they hadn't had the time to confront her.

The sound of a bell ringing drew Clary back to life. "Right, I'll see you lot tomorrow."

As the children gathered their things to prepare to leave they spotted Jace approaching from across the field. As usual, the girls took a moment to assess their own appearances and the boys tried to look a bit more impressive. Though Clary was known mostly for being Valentine's daughter and being gifted with a blade, Jace was famous throughout the Watch and among any shadowhunter who cared to listen. He was the most skilled of the Watch, the most agile, the best trained; if he showed up, something important must have been afoot.

However, Jace's arrival was mostly for Clary's benefit. He strolled in, smirking all over the place, and swept Clary into his arms for a kiss. "And a good afternoon to you, wife," he said, smiling ironically. "I trust you've had a most interesting day. Been keeping busy?"

Clary shrugged over at the students who all shot him hopeful looks. "Busy enough, seeing as I can't get one competent student."

Jace smiled wickedly and pulled her against him. "You and me both, little one," he whispered in her ear. "Why don't we take our talk somewhere a bit more pleasant, or at least, a bit more satisfying? We can meet the Lightwoods and go for a wine at a local pub."

"Wine? Why that's hardly something a gentleman should ever offer a proper lady," laughed Clary, waving a hand to dismiss the students and tossing her weapons and guards to the ground.

"Well, I never claimed to be a gentleman, and," said Jace, admiring Clary's form in the fitted pants and shirt, "you're hardly a proper lady."

"Why I ever married you, I'll never know," muttered Clary, and she scooped up her things and made for the exit. "You're lucky you're so good-"

"In the bedroom?" Jace said loudly and crudely, drawing the attention of a few of the instructors and students. For two weeks, Jace had found the only entertainment in the place to make the other shadowhunters there uncomfortable.

"-at making me smiling," Clary said, not smiling at all. "You're such a rouge."

"I think you knew that when you married me, so what does that make you?" challenged Jace.

"The biggest fool in Idris," she muttered and they made for the school where Isabelle would be collecting her brother.

In the road before the school, Clary spotted not only Isabelle and Max, but Alec and Magnus as well. It had been weeks since she had seen the warlock, and she was surprised by the shock she felt at his appearance. Though Clary could still recall his penchant for bright colors and flair, it was still a bit of a surprise to see him, especially in such a mundane setting. Max, as usual, upon seeing Jace, gave a cry of excitement and rushed at them.

"Hey, kid," Jace rasped when Max crashed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. "It's great to see you too."

"I got to practice with a sword today, a _real _sword! My teacher said I had the best handling in the class and-"

"Max, shut up," Alec said in an offhand way. He hadn't spent much time around Jace and Clary, and he didn't know how much Jace liked Max. "Jace just got done teaching, I'm sure he doesn't want to hear all about your day."

"Max is fine," said Clary, and she picked Max up in a show just how comfortable she was with the boy.

Alec gave Clary an uncertain smile and then glanced guiltily over at Jace. "So, what are you two doing here? Passing through?"

"Looking for you, actually," said Jace. "It's been a while since we've seen you and had a meal. We thought it might be nice to take a break, and here we find you and Magnus. Would you care to join us?"

Alec looked pleased and cast a quick glance over to Magnus. He smiled one of his strange, exotic smiles. "It's been a long while since I've had a meal with Clarissa, and I admit, I miss the excitement of her life. Besides, I need a break from the Clave." Magnus's face fell, and Clary could only guess what the Clave was putting him through.

"To a tavern then," said Isabelle happily. "I could use a strong drink."

"You and me both," giggled Clary.

The evening found the six of them sequestered in a private corner of a tavern, sipping their wine and ale, nibbling fresh bread and warmed slices of meat. For all their differences, they fell into a comfortable silence and it was a balm for Jace and Clary to be around people they could trust, and certainly exciting for Isabelle to be with shadowhunters. Magnus, though, was agitated as he swilled his wine.

"So, I hear the Clave has demoted you?" Magnus shot at Jace.

As he expected, Jace's face fell and he slammed his ale down. "Is that going all around the Clave? You think they might have something better to talk about then me and my wife."

"Honestly? No, the Clave is rather keen to be keeping you two in their sights," sighed Magnus. "If their questions to me are any judge of interest, but, actually, I just assumed you were demoted given the Clave's new edict."

"They've been questioning you about us?" Clary said sharply.

"Mostly they just want to know if you're well enough to speak with them again," admitted Magnus. "I think a few are nervous with this news of Jonathan. Jocelyn can only tell them so much now." When Magnus saw Clary's face pale, he waved a hand. "Don't fret; I've told them questioning you would yield nothing and only serve to make you more ill."

"Do you think this could turn out badly?" asked Isabelle after a moment. When they turned to look at her, she circled her finger around the rim of her glass nervously. "If you keep saying Clary is ill, that's she's constantly on the edge of an emotional breakdown, do you think they might…I don't know, try and lock her up or something?"

Magnus frowned and Jace narrowed his eyes, not liking the idea if Isabelle were correct. "I don't think the Clave would go that far," mused Magnus, but is seemed to concern him. "The most the Clave could ever do is remove Clary from active duty with the Clave. She may still be a child by the Clave's standards, but she's married. The Clave can't commit Clary to an asylum since she falls into Jace's care, and, even if they found some justification for removing her from Jace's care, Jocelyn wouldn't let them."

"Are you so sure?" asked Clary, meaning it as a joke, but not quite able to forget what she had found in her mother's home. Jocelyn didn't love Clary, so what was to stop her from sending Clary off. She'd probably be happy to have her hated daughter out of her life.

Magnus gave Clary a hard look. "You know, Clarissa, as much as you seem to despise your mother, she's actually rather fond of you. I can't imagine why, given the way you treat her."

For once, Clary was shocked by what Magnus said to her. She had always counted Magnus to be a friend, an ally in her struggles, and a protector in her wars. Jace, though secretly agreeing with Magnus, loved Clary too much to cause her more pain. "I was unaware you and my mother got on so well."

"Oh, don't!" snapped Magnus, and he slammed a hand down. He was tired, having spent most of his days now deep in talks with the Clave. "Your mother had been hanging on my bell since you arrived, _begging_ me to speak with her. I respect you, Clary, and that's why I have kept my silence, but this is too much. You're acting like a spoiled child."

"It's my fault, is it?" Clary demanded, and Isabelle saw one of those old changes coming over Clary. "After everything that's happened, I should just forget it all and just let my mother live with her perfect, self-satisfied-"

"No, I mean you should speak to her," Magnus growled. "For months, you've been treating her like she's some unworthy peasant. I understand you've suffered, I understand you hold her accountable, but how do you expect your mother to seek your forgiveness if she doesn't know what you want? Should she simply keep guessing why you hate her?"

"I don't care," Clary said curtly. "I want nothing to do with her."

"Liar," said Magnus, leaning closer. "She's your mother, of course you want something to do with her."

"You don't know the first thing-"

"Me _and_ your mother, apparently," he muttered.

"Stop this," Alec said loudly. His eyes first went to Magnus and then to Clary, hoping to calm them both down. "Arguing like this isn't going to get you anywhere. Clary, maybe you should speak with you mother; Magnus, it's Clary's choice if she wants to speak with Jocelyn in the first place."

Jace shot him an approving look. "Clary," he murmured softly. "You should only do what you feel comfortable doing. You know that whatever decision you make, I'll stand by it. I'll stand by you. But now is not the time to make up your mind, now is the time to discuss less dark matters."

"Agreed," muttered Magnus, and drained his wine. "Besides, there are more pressing things than a girl and her mother."

"What more is there? What news from the Clave?" Jace pressed.

Magnus shook his head listlessly. "There is tension in the air. Many in the Clave do not think we have the necessary numbers or supplies to support the army we are going to need. Unfortunately, I think they may be right; the crop that was brought in during the summer and fall is not going to be enough to feed an army for a winter and more."

"What will happen then?" Isabelle asked, thinking of her job when she first arrived, sneaking about, harvesting food. The farmer in her had looked on the harvest and thought it was not enough for a city the size of Alicante. "Will they ration us?"

"Undoubtedly. But, I do not think cutting back on the flow of food to the public will resolve this." Magnus drew his hands together, the fingers forming little points. "I think there is talk of hunting parties being sent out; mostly the werewolves and vampires who can smell the deer on the wind."

"I would go," said Jace at once. "I'll join a hunting party."

"The Clave won't let you," Magnus said, giving him a hard look. "Now that they've declared a state of war, any shadowhunter who is still considered a child will not be allowed to leave the city. You might as well accept that you're going to be down here till you're eighteen."

Jace flushed. "It's not fair."

"No, but it's the law, and you shadowhunters take the law seriously." Magnus shot a tired glance over at Alec. "Like I said, though, food is soon going to be scarce; families with children will get rations first, then families with soldiers, and finally the rest of us."

Isabelle hugged Max a little closer and looked meaningfully at Alec. "At least they won't be cutting food based off our race."

"No, they can't afford to alienate any potential soldiers," murmured Clary. "Besides, if the Clave only cares for its own, they'll lose support among the Downworlders. Is it just the food they're going to cut?"

"For now," Magnus said. "However, this war could go sour quickly, and I have no doubt that the Clave is going to establish a curfew to keep order among the masses."

Clary scrunched her nose. "Curfew?"

"It's reasonable," said Alec, though he didn't seem to believe his own words. "It guarantees the public a level of safety, and protects us from any spies."

"Yes, but then we'll be locked up," pointed out Clary, thinking of her lifetime spent in her father's court.

"Bound but safe," muttered Jace into his drink. He swished his ale around as he thought, then a memory jumped to life. "Magnus, I heard there is talk of reclaiming the city?"

Something raced across Magnus's eyes, but he blinked and it was gone. "It's true, the Clave is interested in taking back the city, but only if they are sure Jonathan has found us. They don't see the point in revealing themselves unless they are already known. Like this place or not, this city if very protected, by charms, spells, and curses, as well as its natural barriers. No reason to break cover unless we have to."

"But the Glass City must have some of its protection?" asked Clary. "What about the demon towers?"

"What about them?" Magnus asked. "Valentine brought them down once, and I'm sure Jonathan knows how to do it as well. Some the Silent Brothers are working on a way to strengthen the towers, searching for runes that might offer some form of protection. So far, they've had no luck."

"I could do it," said Clary at once, sitting up straighter. "I could make a new rune, a protection rune. Something to keep any demons out."

"Clary, we've had this talk before," Magnus growled. "The Clave doesn't know about your gift, and it's going to stay that way as long as possible. Your mother would murder me if I revealed you the Clave, not to mention what the Clave might do to you."

"I'm not afraid of the Clave," Clary said stubbornly. "I want to stop my brother, and if this is the only way to do it, I'm going to offer."

"You'll do not such thing," said Magnus curtly. "If you reveal the truth, it will be a matter of time before the Clave finds out about Jace. Then where will you be?"

"Where we want to be?" offered Clary. "I want to help in this war, and so does Jace."

"It's not your place," said Alec sadly. "There's a reason the Clave doesn't want children fighting, and it must be a good one."

"Anyway, the Clave won't take you seriously," shrugged Magnus. "They think you're still a bit mad, and I can easily tell them you're delusional. I will, too, if you try to go through with it, Clary, and let's not forget your mother's friendly little chat with Jace."

Jace bared his teeth in a silent snarl. "Jocelyn just wants to protect her daughter, but don't you think this war is more important?"

"Don't you think your lives, your _freedom_, are more important than this war? That's what's at stake, Jace. If the Clave learns the truth, they'll never let you two go. You'll be like nothing so much as an old war horse; they'll keep you on a leash, giving you just enough length to stretch your legs, but always close enough to draw you back in."

"We're members of the Clave," said Clary faintly. "We owe them our skills."

"Clary, you of all people should fear the Clave. You talk often of how much you hated being trapped in the court, and now, you want to trap yourself within the Clave? You'll be their slave."

Clary bit her lips, her thoughts racing back to her misery in Idris. "I don't want that."

"Stop saying these things," said Isabelle loudly, her hand darting out to give Clary's cold hand a squeeze. "Clary isn't going to be the Clave's slave, we're going to protect her from them."

Clary's eyes lifted to Isabelle's gratefully. "I want to help, I want to stop Jonathan. I _need _to stop Jonathan."

"He's not your responsibility," Jace said softly.

"But he is," Clary argued. "He's my brother, and now that my father is gone, who is there to claim kinship?"

"You have a mother," Alec pointed out.

Clary shook her head. "Jocelyn left us long ago. As far as our family is concerned, there was Valentine, me, and Jonathan. He won't recognize her as kin, only me, and so he's my responsibility." She lifted her eyes in a challenge.

"If you think of it that way, I suppose," sighed Magnus, and his eyes moved to Jace in silent warning. "But you really can't take that much responsibility on yourself; you'll make yourself sick."

"Seems to be just what the Clave is asking of me," laughed Clary darkly, but felt Jace's eyes on her and tossed her hair back. "Alright, I won't raise the subject; I just wanted to help fix what my father wronged."

After their argument, the group fell back into comfortable conversation. Alec seemed to be constantly sending Magnus silent messages through his eyes that kept the warlock from raising the subject of the Clave again. Isabelle was loud and playful, trying to keep the talk light, and Max was making wide eyes at Jace. The boy was still in awe of Jace, and as soon as Jace started to complain loudly about being demoted to instructor, he was hanging on his every word. Privately, Max thought he would have given anything to have Jace teaching him every day, and not just whenever Jace had free time. However, seeing the young man's annoyance with the whole thing made Max wonder if his lessons were just as frustrating for Jace.

Once the ale and wine was drained, the food gone, the six stood and said their farewells. Magnus hailed Clary. "Clary, I had no intention of upsetting you, but…I think, in my _professional _opinion, it would be very good for you to speak to your mother."

Clary wrapped herself unconsciously in Jace's arms, but nodded faintly. "Maybe I will. It's been almost six months." Magnus nodded, more to himself than Clary, and then waved Alec over, and the two left.

That night, Clary sat in bed, the blankets drawn up to her chin and she sat, staring blankly at the wall. When Jace saw her, his heart went out to her. "Clary, what Magnus said about talking with your mother, you don't have to speak with her. You have every right to keep your secrets."

"I told you," Clary whispered. "The first night we were married, do you remember?"

Jace joined her, smiling wickedly. "I remember a lot about that night. Particularly how you looked out of your gown."

"Jace," she said, but saw his smile. "I didn't mean to tell you, but I did. What if it happens again? What if it all just…spills out?"

"You don't want it to?" he asked gently.

"I don't want her to think I'm weaker for it," admitted Clary. "I don't want her pity."

Jace raised an eyebrow, but he took Clary into his arms and kissed her hair. "If anything, Clary, I think it shows just how brave you are. That you have lived with those people, that you lived with what they did, only proves you are the strongest person I know. Your mother would be a fool to see it any other way."

"I only want her to know what happened," said Clary, and her face grew hard and her voice cold. Again, Jace was reminded of Valentine. "I want her to know what happened because she left. I want nothing else from her."

"I'll be there to help," Jace said, and he could feel the tension straining through her body. "How about I read to you, to help you sleep?"

"That would be nice," Clary said absently. "_A Midsummer Night's Dream_."

Jace found the book, with a fine layer of dust, hiding under the bed. As he began to read, Clary sank down into the blankets and curled her body around Jace's. He smiled a little to himself and, as he read, he looked down on Clary and thought how brave his little wife was.

* * *

It was later the next day, as Clary was watching her students complete their sets, that a strange sound-a bell-rang out across the grounds. Clary held up her hand, listening to the ringing: once, twice, three times, and then suddenly the bell started ringing madly. The students' faces were blank with confusion, and the instructors, though clearly in the know, looked just as shocked. Clary's eyes ranged across the training field, searching for Jace. When the ringing stopped, chaos ensued.

"You have to return to your home, Mrs. Herondale!" ordered a man who had suddenly appeared at Clary's side. "You need to go home at once."

The man grabbed Clary's arm, dragging her away from her students who were themselves being herded away. "No, wait, where's Jace? Where's my husband?" demanded Clary. "I'm not going unless Jace is with me."

"There's been an attack, and the city is in lockdown. You need to return home so you can be accounted for."

"Jace!" Clary cried frantically, thinking wildly, that if she were taken, he would be forgotten. "JACE!"

"Mrs. Herondale, you need to go home. We'll take you," said the man, his eyes hard and his thoughts on his orders. "If you'll just come with us-"

"Jace! Where's Jace?" Clary took off running, dodging the man's reaching hand. "Jace!"

"Clary!" Jace was emerging from the churning crowd, his face stricken. "Clary, what's going on? What does this bell mean?"

"The city had been attacked," Clary panted, looking over her shoulder at the men coming for her. "They said that we have to go home so they can take roll or something. Jace, it's Jonathan, Jonathan must have found the city!"

"You don't know that," said Jace, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. "It could just be a random attack of some sort. It could just be a pack of demons hunting that tripped an alarm."

The men appeared around them and Jace enfolded Clary into his arms, looking furiously at the men. "What do you want?"

"We're here to escort you back to your homes," said one of the men. "If you'll come with us."

"Why us?" asked Jace swiftly. "I don't see anyone else getting an escort back home."

"We get our orders from the Clave," the man said simply.

Clary and Jace stared in surprise as the men shuffled them along, out of the training center. So, the Clave had been watching them all along. They must have been keeping tabs on Jace and Clary, and they must have found some reason for it. A tremor of fear raced up Clary's spine and she snatched Jace's hand. The Clave had decided they wanted her and Jace for something, and that meant they must have known something.

_What do they want with us? _wondered Clary as they led the two away.


	10. Trapped

**Hey everyone! So, tomorrow I'm heading out to do some research/study for the summer. I'm going to keep updating, but next week's chapter might be a little late while I settle into the new routine. As always, thanks for reading! **

Trapped

Clary felt like she were a package being shipped from place to place, soldiers flanking her as they led her from the training ground. Beside her, Jace was frowning as he was marched, not liking the feeling of being escorted. He shot dark looks out from under his eyelashes at the soldiers, and he considered making a run for it, but he couldn't leave Clary with the men. Instead, Jace drew Clary against him so he could whisper in her ear.

"So, the Clave sent them after us?"

Clary's eyes glanced off the men. "That's what they said; the man who came for me said that we had to be taken home to be accounted for, that the Clave sent the men for us. Do you think the Clave had been watching us the whole time then?"

"Magnus said they were only keeping tabs on us through his medical updates," murmured Jace. "I don't think they've been literally spying on us, but why they sent soldiers to escort us, I don't know."

"I'm Valentine's daughter," said Clary bitterly. "It seems no matter where I go or what I do to earn favor, I will always be considered a flight risk."

"You're _not _Valentine's daughter, Clary, you're my wife. You're the Lady Herondale, remember that." He brushed his finger over the ring he'd given her. "Besides, why would they take both of us; I was certainly no favorite of Valentine's."

"Maybe they have no choice," mused Clary, and her eyes narrowed as she watched the Clave soldiers. "Maybe if they take me, they figure they'll have to take you, just to keep an eye on me. What if Isabelle is right? What if the Clave thinks I'm actually insane, and they're going to try and lock me up?"

The panic in her voice was enough to move Jace. "You're not insane, and I'm not going to let them take you anywhere; wherever you go, I'll be there too."

Clary smiled wanly up at Jace and took his hind tightly in hers. It was a good thing they were holding hands, surrounded by a circle of men as they entered the fray that was the general public. The alarm bells had been a signal, it seemed, for panic to ensue and all around them people were running for their homes. They could hear a constant, high pitched scream, some mixture of childish fear and furious anger. Clary, who was shorter than Jace, could only see the tops of heads. She could see, in the distance, soldiers forcing people out of the city proper and into the city circles. They were emptying the city as fast as they could.

They were passing the school when Clary pulled up short, tugging on Jace. "What about Max and Isabelle?" she said suddenly. "Isabelle is in the outer circles of the city and Max is here, are they going to let Isabelle come get him?"

Jace paused, his mind racing as he weighed their options. One of the soldiers tried to push him along, but he swung around in an instant, ducking under the man's arms. Clary saw him going and pulled herself to stop. She just saw Jace's gold head vanishing into the crowd outside the school and tried to follow him.

"Miss," said one of the men, taking her arm, "we have to keep moving. You're not safe until we've taken you to-"

"I'm not going _anywhere_ without Jace, do you understand me?" she tore her arm out of the man's grasp and reached into her pocket; she drew a short knife, slashing it through the air. "We're waiting here until my husband returns, and the first person to try and move me gets to test their skills against Valentine's daughter." Her voice held enough conviction, mingled with the rumors that swirled around her, to draw her escort to a halt.

The men exchanged uncomfortable looks and their leader, the man who had held Clary, scowled. He didn't particularly care for Valentine's daughter, not after all the friends and family he had lost in the war against him. When he had been boy, the Clave wouldn't have put up with rebellious nature, no matter who your father was; he felt the urge to simply reach down, grab a hunk of Clary's hair, and drag her along. Instead, he bit his lip and placed his hands on his hips. "Alright, we'll wait for five minutes; if Mr. Herondale isn't here, we'll have to move."

Clary crossed her arms but figured it was the best she was going to get. As they waited, Clary saw a woman grab two children desperately and pull them away, a little girl standing all alone crying, and a teacher trying-and failing-to find parents for students. She was starting to panic when she suddenly saw Jace emerge from the disarray, Max clutched in his grasp, his face pale but well composed.

"Max!" Clary cried, holding out her arms, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Are you alright, are you okay?"

"We don't have time!" said one of the soldiers. "We're moving, _now_!"

Max clung to Jace, his arms wrapped around Jace's neck, and tucked his face into Jace's shoulder. They ran through the city streets, finally escaping the city proper and heading into the dark tunnels that marked the shadowhunter homes. It was much darker, and a fair bit more silent, and Clary felt like they were suddenly alone. She assumed that most of the shadowhunters who lived there were adults, and so had been summoned to the Clave for orders. She heard a faint cry of a child, but they were in shadowhunter territory now, and that meant no tears. When they reached their house, Jace turned to face the soldiers.

"We're here, happy?" he smirked at one of the men.

"You're not staying here," said the leader. "I have specific orders from the Clave to escort you to a safe house. Please, pack what you can in one trunk and we'll be on our way." He eyed the child in Jace's arms. "We'll find a place for the child."

"Max is staying with us," said Clary firmly. "And what do you mean, we're going to a safe house? You told me you were taking us to our home to be accounted for. Now, we're being moved somewhere for safety?"

"Those are my orders," said the man, and he turned his eyes to Jace's molten gold. "You are to gather your things and then we'll take you somewhere else."

"You're not taking us anywhere without telling me where," growled Jace. "I don't care who gave you orders, this is my wife, my family; the Clave isn't going to push us around."

"Mr. Herondale," said the leader, and his voice was hard as steel. "I have my orders. We can either escort you and your wife to your new location, or, we can bind you and take you there. The choice is yours."

Jace's teeth were bared in a silent snarl, but Clary reached up and brushed his shoulder. "There's no point in arguing now. Let's just get our things together and go; we can contact Magnus or my mother once we're settled. They still have some pull."

Though Jace didn't want to, he turned from the soldier and kicked the door to their home open. "Clary, do you mind holding Max? I'll pack everything and take the trunk."

Clary scooped Max up and set him on her hip while Jace busied himself with their things. As he threw things into the trunk, Clary spoke quietly to the boy. "We're going to get you back to your sister or brother, Max, but I didn't want to leave you there. It looked like they were emptying the city."

"They were," nodded Max blandly. "They said that anyone who didn't have parents to come get them would be taken to the library and made to stay there until the alarm was ended. They weren't going to let people into the city though, just out."

"We'll take care of you till then," Clary said. She saw the way Max just stared around himself, like all the world could be burning down and he would still be calm and collected. She wondered if this was what it was like when her brother razed his home and killed his parents. "You're very brave, Max, braver than a lot of the shadowhunters I saw. Some of my students were screaming when the bells went off."

Max leveled her with the stare. "If you scream, people will notice you. I was going to try and sneak off once no one was watching."

Again, Clary brushed the hair out of his eyes and smiled down at him. "No sneaking off from us; not that you could, Jace can hear too well."

"Will I see Isabelle again, or are they going to take her away like before?" he shuddered.

Clary pressed her lips together and then drew a blanket off the bed; she wrapped it about Max, covering him from head to toe. "Isabelle will be fine. Right now, the Clave just needs to make sure everyone is accounted for, but Isabelle knows how to defend herself. Besides, she was in Luke's store; I'm sure any of his employees will have some pull with the Clave. I just didn't want to leave you with those children."

Max smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Ready?" It was Jace and he was just locking the lid on their trunk. "I can carry this as long as we're not going more than a few miles."

They left the house and Clary wished fervently that they could go back. It may have been small and bare, but it had been her first real home that was her own. She had grown up under her father's eye and this place had been the first time she could call herself her own master. Besides, it had been her first home with Jace and the two shared a number of fond memories there. Now, though, they were rushed off down the lonely passages with nothing to look forward too. Against her side, Max was trembling, so she squeezed him tighter.

Fifteen minutes later, they turned down a paved passage, and Clary felt her stomach drop out. She recognized the place they had brought her to. The large houses and well-manicured lawns were reminiscent of her mother's house, and she felt her feet dig into the road. Jace paused when he saw the hard lines of her face.

"What is it, Clary?" he asked.

"They're taking us to my mother," Clary accused, glaring at the men around her. "My mother pulled strings with the Clave, didn't she, and they ordered you to bring us here? I knew she would do this Jace, I knew it!"

"Miss, we don't know who the orders come from, only the Clave-"

"Such an underhanded thing to do," growled Clary. "I knew she wanted us, Jace, but I didn't think she'd sink so low as to use the war to achieve her ends."

"These are our orders," said the leader. "We will escort you to the house of Jocelyn Morgenstern and a detail will be assigned to watch the house."

"You can't lock us up," Clary argued, thinking fast of any way to escape her mother. "We're people, not animals!"

"We're in a state of war now," said the man. "For the safety and continuation of the Clave, marshal law will be implemented. You'll be given semi-permanent runes that bind you to your place of residence."

Jace dropped the trunk in his fury. "So, we're prisoners to the Clave?"

"Mr. Herondale, it's for your own protection," said the man, and he had reached the end of line. He readied his weapon and drew very close to Jace. "Either go to that house, or I will _put _you in that house."

"Is that a threat?" Jace said politely, but his eyes were like fire. Max, who was tucked in Clary's arms, swallowed, and he wondered if he was going to see Jace fight. "You know what happened to the last man that threatened me?"

"Curious," murmured the soldier, and he drew his weapon.

Jace tensed, ready to punch the man in the jaw when a shrill voice cut the air. "What are you doing out there? It's freezing, not to mention dangerous. Get inside, right now." Jocelyn came sprinting out of her home, a cloak wrapped tightly about her shoulders, but it was open, and in clear sight on her hip, was a long sword. She joined their small group, placing herself between Jace and the man. "Aldertree, you're not needed here anymore; I'll take care of my daughter and son-in-law from here."

"They have a child with them," Aldertree said accusingly. "A boy they took from the Mundane school."

Jocelyn's eyes flickered up to Clary, flashed with understanding, and then she smiled serenely. "Nothing to fear, Aldertree, I'm more than capable of housing a small boy as well. He'll be perfectly safe in my home."

"We need his name," he said.

"Max," Clary said loudly. "Max Lightwood. His sister is my best friend."

"Max Lightwood," Jocelyn said firmly. "Take his name and be on your way. I'll keep track of the children until the Clave comes to mark them." Though Aldertree looked like he wanted to argue, Jocelyn smiled slowly, dangerously, and stepped closer so their faces were an inch apart. "I said, be on your way, Aldertree, don't make me _escort _you from the property."

A muscle in Aldertree's jaw moved, but he dropped his eyes and signaled his men away. As soon as they were gone, the tension in Jace left, but for Clary, it seemed to double. She fixed her mother with a hard look. "Speaking of escorts to property, mother, is there any reason why Jace and I were brought here?"

Jocelyn saw the coldness in Clary's eyes. "I am just as surprised as you, Clarissa, but I can only assume the Clave thought it would be dangerous for you to be staying somewhere unattended. My home is certainly well protected."

"I'm not unattended," Clary ground out. "I've got Jace."

"You're boy still children," reasoned Jocelyn. "You need to be with an adult while we are in such a state. Also, I can only guess the Clave perceives a threat to you and Jace from Jonathan. They want you safe." When Clary still stared, Jocelyn smiled sadly. "_I _want you safe as well. Please, it's cold enough to catch your death, let's go inside and get you settled."

Clary looked to Jace but he shrugged; what choice did they really have? Clary nodded to her mother and followed her up the road and through her garden walk. Once inside, Jocelyn closed the door, slashing a rune across the front, locking it soundly. Clary watched her and swallowed back any complaints. This time, the inside of Jocelyn's home was alive with light and warmth. The hearth in the kitchen and sitting room were blazing, candles lit, and witchlight stones glowing. From the kitchen rose the smell of baking bread and something that smelled suspiciously like chicken. Jocelyn smiled a little uncertainly.

"There's two spare rooms upstairs," she said. "Jace, if you want to take one and put your things in there, Max can have the other." She looked fondly over the small boy. "I think I have some clothes that might fit you, Max; they're a little old, but…"

Clary wondered where her mother got small boy's clothing from fleetingly, but then cleared her throat. "I'll go up with Jace as well and get Max settled."

"Yes, of course," said Jocelyn, gesturing widely behind her. "Make yourselves at home, get comfortable; I'm going to fix up the rest of dinner for us. Do you like potatoes and chicken, Max?" When he nodded mutely, she smiled even wider. "That's what we're having."

"Let's go up," said Clary loudly, and she nudged Jace on up to their rooms.

She set Max down on the bed in hers and Jace's new room, surveying her domain. It was, admittedly, much nicer than her last home. The floor was polished wood, covered in thick carpets, the walls were lit with witchlights, and there was even a widow that looked out on a backyard garden. Jace was unloading their clothing into a wide closet so Clary sat on the bed. She sank into the down mattress and wondered at its welcoming embrace. She had lived so long out of the castle that she'd forgotten the pleasures to be had.

"Do you think she's really so surprised by all this?" Clary asked.

"She seemed surprised enough," shrugged Jace. "It's true that neither of us are adults in the eyes of the Clave, so we can't draw a salary. Also, I guess the Clave is right, we might be a target of Jonathan's."

"I think she just wants to protect you," Max said gently from his place on the bed. He was still wrapped in the blanket, but he seemed more alive than before. "She looked really concerned when she saw that man trying to hurt Jace. She reminded me of a mountain lion I'd see once protecting her cubs."

Clary raised an eyebrow at the boy. "You see more than I do, then," she said simply. "Shall we go see your room, Max, and see these clothes my mother has for you?"

Max looked excited. "I get a room this size all to myself?" Clary laughed and stood up, Max joining her.

As it turned out, Max's room was a little smaller than hers and Jace's, but still as welcoming and comfortable. The bed was a little high up for Max, and the closet was much larger than he needed. Clary found, piled on the bed, clothing; there were small shirts with fine thread detailing the neck and wrists made of soft wool, there were leggings and pants of dyed wool, two pairs of deerskin boots, even a child-sized cloak in dark, royal purple with gold detailing. It was the cloak that did it for Clary.

_These are Jonathan's, _Clary thought wonderingly. _She took Jonathan's baby clothes when she left._ Again, Clary felt that pang of bitterness toward her mother's favoritism. She had kept little mementos of her brother but not her. _She loved Jonathan so much._

"Here, Max," she said, brandishing a white shirt with blue strips sown into the wrist. "You should get out of those training clothes." Max came over, smiling widely, admiring the finery he'd only ever seen.

"Are you sure those are what I wear to dinner?" Max picked at the sleeve. "It looks very fine."

Clary grinned sadly at Max who thought a white wool shirt was fine. "No, this is just fine. Do you want Jace to help you? I'm not too familiar with young boy's clothing."

Max blushed a little. "No, I can dress myself." Clary smiled at him and left, joining Jace in their room. She removed a plain dress from the closet and asked if Jace would help her into it.

Clary surveyed herself in the mirror and thought she looked faintly elegant, but the princess in her was gone. Her chin was up, but not with some misplaced birthright, her eyes were lifted in a challenge, not lowered in humble sweetness, and her body was losing a lot of its weak roundness in place of shapely muscle. Tiredly, Clary tied her loose hair back and brushed the rest of it down. She noted that it had grown a little, the ends tangled and the curls more wild than usual.

"Clary, let's go," Jace called from the door, Max at his side. "I'm not sure about you, but I'm half starved and chicken sounds lovely."

The three went downstairs and found that Jocelyn was setting the table for four, and she seemed oddly pleased by it. When she saw them watching her, Jocelyn smiled warmly and gestured to the table. "Please, sit down, the food is ready. Max, did the clothes fit?"

Max pulled out a chair and propped himself up on it. "Yes, ma'am, thank you."

"You can call me Jocelyn," she said warmly, again, admiring the dark haired boy. "You're sister is a very good friend of my daughter's. You're always welcome." Jocelyn moved around the table, serving fresh bread, chicken, and potatoes; she even managed to dig out a jug of mulled wine, which she heated over the oven.

The conversation over dinner was dry, but Clary's curiosity won out over her anger at her mother. "So, was there really an attack on the city, or is this all some big hoax cooked up by the Clave?"

"No," said Jocelyn darkly. "There was a large hunting pack of demons spotted in the ruins of Alicante. I can't say with any certainty if they were sent by Jonathan or if they simply strayed to us, but there were enough to worry the Clave."

"When will we have news?" asked Jace. "What will the Clave do?"

"They're already done it." Jocelyn gestured around her. "Marshal Law had been reinstated, and they sent a contingency of shadowhunters to the surface to trap and kill the demons. Tomorrow, there is going to be a summons that I will attend. I will know more then."

"How will this affect the rate they start mobilizing the soldiers?" wondered Jace, thinking that in their desperation, the Clave may start looking to men like himself.

Jocelyn shook her head. "I wouldn't know, but I can assume that any shadowhunter who were previously unaware of our current state will know now. The Clave is in a delicate position and I have no doubt they will overreact."

"This isn't overreacting?" Clary laughed, her eyes moving to the window where she could see armed shadowhunters passing by. "They are locking us up."

"You're not prisoners here," Jocelyn argued gently. "You'll be allowed to leave once they assess the threat. It should only take a day or two at the most for the Clave to know if the demons were sent, if any escaped, and if any more are coming. I'm sure there's going to be a call for more shadowhunters."

"Two days?" Clary moaned, thinking of being trapped in the house with her blind-to-the-world mother. "What happens if I leave the house?"

Jocelyn's face grew serious, far more than Clary expected. "You're not to leave this house, Clarissa, Jace. If the Clave finds you out of doors during a lockdown situation they will arrest you, take you to prison, and have the Silent Brothers search through your memories. It is the assumption of the Clave that any sneaking around during a time like this is a spy, and you will be treated as such."

Jace considered this. "It seems like the Clave is just waiting for a chance like that where Clary and I are concerned."

"It's possible," Jocelyn said, and her she looked very uncomfortable. "The Clave did send soldiers to get you specially, and I have no doubt they were hoping that you two would put up a fight."

"Had you not interrupted us," Jace began, "what would have happened?"

Jocelyn stared into her wine. "I wouldn't know for sure, but…I think you would have been arrested and taken before the Clave for interrogation. Most likely, you would have been held afterward under suspicion."

"They would have made Clary come, wouldn't they?" Jace hissed, his fingers tightening around the stem of his glass. "They _are _spying on us, trying to bring us in for more questioning."

"I'm hoping Magnus will get more information on the matter soon," Jocelyn murmured. "He went directly to the Clave when the bell rang; it was Magnus, actually, who sent me a message telling me to stay here and wait for you. He must have found something out about the Clave's plan for you and wanted me here to see you safely tucked away."

"Will they let Magnus come here?" Clary asked tiredly.

"They have little choice," chuckled Jocelyn darkly. "While travel by the roads is well monitored, I don't think the Clave will be able to spot a man hoping the garden fence in the dead of night." When Jace and Clary glanced at her, Jocelyn jerked her head to the right. "Magnus is my neighbor. Alec is there, too, I believe, Max, if you want to stay with your brother."

"What if they come looking for me?" Max asked. "To take me to my sister?"

"Smart boy," hummed Jocelyn. "You're absolutely right, of course, Max. I expect that sometime tonight the Clave is going to begin the census. They will know you're here."

"Well, Alec can still come over and visit," Jace reassured Max. "I'm sure he won't be needed at the Clave every minute like Magnus."

"I wouldn't be too certain; Magnus has been keeping Alec very busy, and constantly says how useful the boy has proven to be." Jocelyn looked over her shoulder out the window and saw two soldiers who had paused to view her house. She frowned. "It's going to be a tough couple of days."

"I'm curious," said Clary loudly, drawing the attention back to the table. "Will Jace and I be able to return home after a few days? Once the Clave works everything out they'll send us home, right?"

"I wouldn't be too sure of that." Jocelyn shook her head. "I think the Clave is going to use this attack as an excuse to start pushing forth more restrictive laws. I do not think you and Jace, at the least, will be allowed to go back home. The Clave wants to keep a closer eye on you."

"But why?" Jace pounded his fist on the table. "They don't know anything about us, do they?"

"No," Jocelyn said quickly. "No one has told them anything, but I think it's just your association to Jonathan that keeps them dogging you. The Clave knows that both you and Clary have had close contact with Jonathan, and, seemingly, close contact with Valentine. They think you might know something-_anything_-about Jonathan you've forgotten to mention."

Clary's shot a withering look at Jace. "Guess it's a good thing we never mentioned what Valentine did to us."

"We still don't know that he did anything to me," reasoned Jace, but he was nodding. "Though it seems the Clave is willing to go to any lengths to find out. I guess we'll be keeping you company a while, Jocelyn."

"I don't mind," she purred. "My house is more than big enough for you three, and there's plenty of ways you can go about spending a day. Max, we'll get a message to Luke who'll let your sister know you're here."

Max nodded and took a huge bite of a potato hunk. "Well," he said, licking his lips, "we don't have to send me back so soon, right?"

Jocelyn laughed, and Clary, against her will, smiled warmly. "You can stay for at least a few more meals, I'm sure."

They finished the meal in contemplative silence: Clary thinking over her current imprisonment, Jace, considering the Clave's most recent underhanded trick, Jocelyn, her chance to reconcile with her daughter, and Max, wondering when he was going to see any of his family again. By the time the meal was done and the plates washed, Max looked about tiredly and stretched, and Jace winked at him.

"Maybe you should get a bath, kid, and then into bed?" suggested Jace.

Max frowned, thinking that a bath was just a waste of time. "Maybe I can just get a book and go to bed?"

"You should always bathe after a long day of swordplay," Jocelyn sang, her eyes sparkling. "It's good for the muscles, that's what I always told Jon-my son when he was little," she said, stumbling over Jonathan's name. Her eyes fell and she looked back to the dishes drying the sink.

Clary caught the slip and glared, but turned her kind gaze on Max. "You go bathe, Max, I won't have your sister giving me a thrashing when she finds you covered in dirt."

"She won't give you a thrashing," Max sighed dramatically, but Jace swung him up easily.

"You're right, now that Isabelle knows how to use one of those knifes, you'll be lucky if it's a thrashing you get." Max snorted and stuck his tongue out Jace. "Come on, Max, upstairs and in a bath." Jace turned, casting a meaningful look at his wife before leaving.

Clary watched them go and felt her mother's presence like a physical tension. She turned to face her and found that Jocelyn was still staring down as if in pain. Though Clary felt a pang of pity for her, she suddenly remembered the lock of hair in her mother's desk and the boy clothes she'd kept, and her will hardened.

"Mother, I'll have some tea in the living room by the fire, if you don't mind overmuch?" It was a question, but Clary had already poured herself a mug of warm, fragrant tea. She sipped it and felt a thrill of pleasant heat wash down her. "I'll take my leave."

No sooner had Clary sat down before the fire with her tea than her mother appeared, and her face was inscrutable, but her voice, when she spoke, was broken. "Clary, please, tell me why you have turned away from me. Since you've come to Alicante you have avoided me like the plague, but I can't bear such coldness from my sweet little princess."

Clary frowned into her tea. "Please, Mother," she said as if it were a joke, "I have not been avoiding you, I've simply been busy."

"You have not been busy, Clary," Jocelyn said, crossing the room and taking a seat opposite her. "You cannot bear being near me, you make yourself busy. I just want to know why."

Clary flamed. "You don't care, you've never cared; don't try and draw my sympathy with your tragic eyes and pouting lips. I'm not Father, I won't fall before you."

"How can you think I don't care?" Jocelyn rasped. "You are my daughter!"

"And Jonathan was your son, but that certainly didn't stop you from leaving him!" Clary's smile was like a snake. "You have no idea, Mother, what you did."

"Then why won't you tell me?" Jocelyn pleaded. "If I've done you harm, Clary, I would know, so that I could make it better. Let me make it better."

"You can't make it better," Clary said simply. "You can only know what you've done and live with the guilt."

"Then let me bear the guilt, Clary, so you will be free of it," Jocelyn urged.

Clary placed her tea down on the table before her and gave her mother an empty, blank courtier's smile. "As you'll have it, Mother."


	11. Jonathan's Tale

**Sorry this came out so late everyone, there is a lot more work to do here than I thought. With that in mind, next weeks chapter might come out later. I am still trying to stay in track, but time is tight here. Thanks for reading! **

Jonathan's Tale

"You left us, you know," said Clary as she swirled her tea around her mug. She stared into it as she spoke. "You left me and Jonathan with that monster, and he did things-things to both of us-that ruined us. You left us, you ruined us as much as Father." When Jocelyn didn't open her mouth to speak, when she didn't even blink, Clary frowned to herself. She had been hoping my mother would at least try and argue with her.

"I used to wonder to myself, sometimes, when you were gone. Father told me that you had died while you traveled to visit a friend. I suppose that was all a lie, but I don't hold you responsible for his lies. However, I always wondered, why, Mother, you never came back. Why did you never tell me you were alive?"

Jocelyn lifted her eyes and they were aglow with pain. "Clarissa-_Clary_-I would have come back if I could, but once I was here, it was nearly impossible to go."

"Why?" demanded Clary suddenly. "Why couldn't you come back for me when you had settled yourself here?"

"It wasn't nearly so easy," pleaded Jocelyn. "When I ran from your father, I was running from danger into danger. I had never thought I'd live, Clary, I thought I was going to die when I left Idris. I couldn't justify taking my daughter and son with me-"

"Bet you could have taken Jonathan!" Clary spat suddenly. "I reckon you would have carried him on your back until you dropped dead of carrying him."

"I would have done the same for you," said Jocelyn quickly. "I would have trudged through hell itself with both of you if it would make you happy."

"Nothing you do makes me happy. You have failed me completely." In her frustration, Clary had leaned forward over the table and she caught herself before she upset the mug. "I can never forget what you did to me, and I won't let myself forgive it."

Jocelyn looked like she was about to be sick. "You hold me accountable for your father, that I understand, but how can I make amends when you won't tell me what he did? Please, give me some hint, some word of your fate."

Clary smiled toothily. "Valentine ignored me."

"Ignored you?"

"Ignored my pain, my guilt, my torture; he ignored it all and gave his son whatever he desired." Clary thought of all the times she had looked at her father, secretly wishing he might pity her, even just a little, and all the times he had smiled that empty, cruel smile in return. "I died, and it was only Jace's timely arrival that saved me."

Jocelyn considered Valentine from her memories. He had always been a man prone to action, not ignorance; he would always move against an enemy, so if his intent had been to torture Clary, why not actively? "I don't understand, Clary, what your father ignored."

"He ignored me when I needed him, and it's your fault!" Clary rose up from her seat, unable to bear her mother's sad eyes. "He loved you and you betrayed him. I understand why you did it, I'd betray him if I could have, but you didn't consider the repercussions of your actions. He was a cruel, overbearing monster, and, because I favored you, he took it out against me. Maybe he hoped one day I'd find you, just so I could tell you this, but I'm beyond caring now. You left me to a pack of wolves."

"I take all responsibility for that," she said at once, breathlessly. "I knew only that the life I could give you might have been cut short, and even if it had lasted, I had no idea how I would be received here. I was a traitor to the Clave, Clary, I thought if they found me, they would kill me. And you, being Valentine's daughter, you would have died too, just for your blood. I was afraid for you."

Clary shook her head, sending her hair flying wildly. "Did you know Valentine called off my engagement?"

Jocelyn narrowed her eyes. "No he didn't; you're married to Jace Herondale, as I wanted."

"He only married me to Jace when he ran out of options," Clary hissed. "I had another suitor, Mother, another who Father saw fit to marry me off to. Another who might be king."

"No," Jocelyn said, and her mind was slowly working toward an answer. "No, that's impossible; Jace was the only shadowhunter boy left, he was the only one who could marry into the family. I made sure Celine was with child long ago, during our rebellion."

"Well, Father saw fit to find me another husband," said Clary in clipped tones. "A husband _most_ suited to the throne."

"Who?"

"Can you think of no other?" laughed Clary madly, and her eyes danced with a demonic light. "There was only ever one man who father thought would make a suitable match for me. A prince among dogs, he was. One of the blood, too. Certainly the best Father could do for his daughter."

It came to her then, and Jocelyn recoiled from the idea as if it were a blazing fire. At first, she refused to believe what Clary had told her, and she stared up defiantly at her daughter, but the longer she looked on, the less she could deny what was in Clary's eyes: pain, loss, humiliation, and burning rage.

"Valentine tried to wed you to Jonathan?" she asked in barely a whisper.

Clary gave her a deep, mocking bow. "Yes, Mother, married to my own brother, and don't try to blame this all on Father, Jonathan was more than happy to oblige him. That, of course, is where we really come to it."

"Come to what?" Jocelyn asked looking thoroughly sick with Clary. "What have I done to Jonathan?"

"I can't say with any certainty," she answered in clipped tones. "But all I know is, you left us, and not long after, Jonathan changed. Maybe it was because you ran away, maybe because Father took to caring for us, but he became a monster."

"Clary, he's your brother, perhaps he thought that it was the only way to love you-"

It seemed very suddenly too much for Clary; her mother's sad, lost eyes, her own bitter past, and the secret that hung between them. She felt words swarm up to her throat before she could stop them, and they passed through her lips like vomit. "He _raped_ me." It wasn't what Jocelyn had been excepting her daughter to say, not nearly. Her words died on her lips and she felt her mouth hang slightly open. "He raped me, and not once, not twice, often enough that I accepted it as my lot in life. All the while, Father knew, he watched and mocked me, but he never raised a hand to stop it. Magnus had to-to give me medicine to make sure I never got with child. He wanted me Mother, he still wants me, and it's your fault."

"If you want me to bear this burden of guilt for you, I will," Jocelyn said after a minute of silence. "I love you, Clary, I love you so much it hurts me to see you like this. If it's what you want, I'll do this for you."

"It's more than that," Clary snarled quickly. "I've come to accept what happened to me, and I'm no fool, I know it's not my fault. But, Jonathan, that is another matter, isn't it?"

"Jonathan?" she gasped. "What do you want with him?"

"If I am right, he's the way he is because of you, so his crime is as much yours as his, no?" she said, lifting her chin to meet her mother's blank look. "Do you bear his guilt, because I assure you, I hold you accountable."

Jocelyn's eyes seemed to dart back and forth between her palms in her lap. "If that's what you'd like…but, Clary, please, let me help you. You've been hurt, and hurt in a way no one else understands."

"Jace understood."

"He loves you, but he can't imagine what it is like to suffer how you have suffered. Men do not know that pain-"

"He almost did," Clary challenged. "When I had run off, Jonathan was going to sell him to his friends. The court was a sick place, Mother, though no doubt it has gotten sicker…"

"It's not the same, Clary," her mother said, shaking her head. "Please, I will help you if you let me. I can protect you from yourself. I know what it is to lie with a man you don't love-"

"I wondered when you might try and tell me that that cock and bull story you told the Clave: that you never loved Father. Save your words, Mother, I care not for them."

"It's not a story, Clary, I loved him once, but I was sick with what he'd done, and-"

"Sick with him, sick with me, but not with Jonathan?" Clary's voice held an oddly happy note, as if she were amused by all her mother had said. "I trust he's still your little boy?"

Jocelyn frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I saw his clothes, Mother, I saw the hair, too." Clary's face turned an ugly shade of grey. "You took your memories of him, didn't you, but not me. Did you love your little monster so much but your little angel so little?"

"You saw his hair?" she asked, her eyes clouded.

"The lock tied in string of Jonathan's hair!" Clary cried, throwing her hands up. "The one you keep tucked away in her desk in your study upstairs. And the clothes you have for Max, where did those clothes come from? From Jonathan, I'll tell you!"

"Clary, you don't understand," she said desperately, rising now too. "I thought I had lost him-"

"But you didn't lose me?" Clary turned away from her mother and stalked to the window to look out on the passing men and women in black. "Losing Jonathan would break your heart, but losing me was just a passing shadow. You never loved me," she added in barely a whisper. Though Clary would never admit it, part of her wanted her mother to love her, part of her wanted her mother to deny what she had said.

"No, no you're wrong, Clary," Jocelyn murmured, and she came up behind her daughter, not touching her, just close enough to let Clary feel her presence. "I thought that if I had gone, your father would take his anger out on your brother, _my_ first born, not my daughter. He was a gentleman, Clary, and he had never given me reason to suspect he might harm his _daughter. _I thought you, at least, would be safe from his wrath. Safe long enough for me to send Magnus and Luke to you."

Though Clary had taught herself to hate her mother over the past six months, there was something in her voice that rang true, and it was that, that really got to Clary. She had accepted, even enjoyed, hating her mother's memory, but hearing her like this, sympathetic and apologetic, was confusing for Clary. She tried to understand her mother's motives, for she must have motives, but they weren't clear for her.

_She's trying to make you love her, so she can-so she can…_

_So she can what? What do you have that your mother really needs? Could she not take from you anything you have with a wave of her hand? You must ask yourself, then, what is it you have that your mother wants?_

Bitterly, Clary realized there was one thing her mother wanted. _She wants your love. _

Clary recoiled from the thought like she'd been stung. "You're a gifted actress, Mother."

"What makes you think I'm acting?" Jocelyn cried in frustration. "What makes you think I don't love you? Is it because I left? Clary, I tell you, _I had no choice_. I had betrayed your father, had been betraying him, and it was only a matter of time before he knew."

"So, like a coward, you ran."

"Yes, but only because I knew if I stayed you and Jonathan were in danger. He would have used you against me if he thought I would comply. Even now, even in his death, can't you see he's punishing me?" Jocelyn gave a sob, and broken, pathetic sob, and Clary watched in the reflection of the dark glass as the queen she'd known all her life, crumbled before her. "I _loved _you and your brother more than anything in this world, more than my queenship, more than myself, and more than Valentine. You two were my world.

"Your father saw how I looked on you, and knew, I knew even then, how jealous he was. It was a sick thing, I knew it and I chose to deny it. But it was a sick thing. How could a father hate his own children?"

"It's not so hard to imagine," Clary said feeling empty.

"Let me finish!" Jocelyn said quickly. "I need you to know why I left.

"Valentine was raised by his father, a hard man, who had little respect for love and the softer things in life. Often, your father would say I opened his heart to a world he'd never known, a world where love made you stronger and more beautiful. For a long while, he was a changed man; he was passionate, out-spoken, engaging, he became the man who later led his followers against the Clave.

"But it was that love that was his undoing. You father thought that the love I had given him was the only love I could truly feel. He thought it bound us together in a way no rune ever could. That's why, when Jonathan, and later you, were born, it perturbed him. He couldn't understand how my heart could open again for you two, when his was open only to me. He didn't understand that there are many kinds of love in this world, and all of them, as powerful as next.

"Your father watched me every day and every night with you two, and he grew bitter. He hated the love I had for you because it wasn't the love I had for him." Jocelyn shuddered. "Then one night, he came to me, confronted me. I begged with him, pleaded with him, cried until he understood how I could love both him and you, and finally, he took me in his arms. He apologized, for he said he was mistaken in himself, that he had doubted our love.

"I thought he had come around, but then, I recall, a strange look crossed his face, and he asked me, very quietly, would I love him no matter how horrible he became. It scared me, Clary, because I had seen your father destroy a people and lives without batting an eye, and I knew him capable of so much. So, I asked him what he had done that could possibly be so horrible. After much prying and wheedling, he told me."

Frowning, Clary turned to face her mother, but Jocelyn was long gone from this world. "What had he done?"

"I think, even now, I hoped he was lying, but after what you have told me, I begin to suspect more and more the truth." Jocelyn wrapped her arms about herself. "He told me, he had meant to test my love for him against my love for my children. He said he had-he had _done things _to Jonathan. He said Jonathan wasn't a shadowhunter anymore, that he wasn't even human. Jonathan was a demon child."

_Demon child? _Clary thought, dread surging up.

"It was a test, you see. Valentine was going to make me prove I loved him and his world more than my children by making me murder my own son."

Clary recalled suddenly how much her father had forgiven Jonathan, how he had always favored her brother, overlooked his glaring faults. It had indeed, been out of guilt. He had poisoned Jonathan to try and tame Jocelyn, and when Jocelyn fled from him, he had nothing of her but her children.

_Somewhere, beneath his pride and his selfishness, there must have been a miserable, guilty young man, _Clary thought in surprise, for she had never associated those terms with her father. _Giving Jonathan what he wanted was the only to make amends with the boy he ruined._

"He must have gone through with it," Clary finally said. "He must have made Jonathan into a demon. It would certainly explain the way he behaved toward me since you left."

"I have always feared that," Jocelyn admitted, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. "I would lay awake at night, wondering if he really had poisoned my little boy against me. My poor son, my poor little Jonathan."

Clary was confused, so confused it was painful. She had hated her brother for so long for the things he had done to her. She had painted quite a picture of the bother he was: the cruel, domineering, abusive man who had been her captor and tormenter for years. He had violated her, broken her soul, made her a shadow of what she could have been. Now, after everything, it turned out that _he _was the tortured one, _he _was the broken one, _he _was the one whose soul had been torn apart…and by their own father, nonetheless.

Images swarmed up in Clary's mind against her will…Nights as a little girl, terrified of the dark and the sounds; she'd run to his room, creep into the door and wait on baited breath until Jonathan rolled over and sensed her there. He would sit up, hair tousled and face pale, see her silhouetted in the candle light, and smiling warmly, wave her over. Clary would climb into his high bed, snuggle down under the covers, and sleep there under his watchful gaze. Or the days in the sun with their mother, running through pastures of flowers and grass, she, chasing his little coat tails, and he, letting her win in the end just to make her happy. Their days inside when it rained, painting and listening to their mother read. Horseback riding lessons where Jonathan would help Clary up, steady her mount, and teach her the commands. All those days as children, all those happy memories, and she had pushed them away.

_Is it me? _she wondered. _Did I hurt him when I pushed him away? When he was alone and confused by the darkness, should I have been his light? _"What have I done?" Clary cried suddenly and covered her face, unable to face the world then. "What have I done!"

"Clary, no!" Jocelyn cried, making a grab for Clary as she raced for the door to the back garden, but the girl was too fast. All Jocelyn saw was her dress tails swaying back and forth in her madness. "Oh, please, come back, come back!"

Clary, though, stumbled away from the house and rushed into the backyard. Her eyes raced about even as her mind spun. There seemed to be too much for Clary to consider, too much for her to feel. It overwhelmed her. She found herself looking down on the flowerbeds of her mother's well tended garden that ringed a small pool. Their simple beauty seemed to mock her and she fell to her knees and began tearing them out by their roots.

As Clary tore at the garden, Jocelyn wandered sadly up the stairs. Her daughter didn't want her, and she knew there was only one person in the world who could coax Clary from her terror. Somewhere, she felt a little bitter, a little sad, that her daughter couldn't bear her touch, but she knew on some deeper lever that she had to do right by her daughter.

She knocked softly on the door to the room Jace and Clary shared. "Jace? Jace, could I speak to you?"

There was the usual silence, and then Jocelyn heard the bed creak and the floor boards groan. After a moment, the door swung open. Jace stood there, framed in the doorway and Jocelyn was taken again by how striking Jace was, and she seemed oddly proud that her daughter had found this man. "You rang?" Jace asked, his voice just a tad caustic.

"Yes," she said, "I was hoping you might be able to help me."

"Help you?" Jace asked starkly, and he threw the door open wider. On the bed, she saw Max curled up with a book spread on his chest. "I got the impression that you didn't need help with anything."

"Jace, please," Jocelyn said urgently. "Clary-she's so upset and I don't know how to help her. I told her the truth about everything and she was so confused. You need to speak with her, Jace. You're the only one I know who can help her."

"What did you tell her?" Jace said sharply. "What more could you possibly have done?"

"I'll bear my guilt, Jace, but don't you dare assume that I don't love Clary!" Jocelyn slammed her hand against the wall and Jace was visited again by his image on the queen she had been. "Go and speak to her. Make her better."

Jace wanted to tell Jocelyn no, but he would never deny Clary when she needed him. "Get Max in bed for me, will you?"

"Of course," she said absently, and Jace rushed past her.

Jace went down to the garden quietly, not wanting to scare Clary. He had learned that in these situations, Clary was like a cornered animal, and she was as dangerous as one. When he found her, stranded in a bed of torn up flowers, dirt spattered over her dress and leaves in her hair miserably, he approached carefully and waited until she sensed him there.

"I should have known my mother would go get you," Clary spat, and Jace had never heard her so angry with him. "She knows she can't bring me around, so she calls out her only resort. She's just using you against me."

"I can tell you, she's not, Clary," he assured. "I came because she said you were in pain and I knew you wouldn't listen to her. I've come to make you better, if you'll let me."

Clary shot him a grudging look. "I can't turn you away, Jace, and you know it. You're the only person to care for me, the only one to offer me help. I'll never let you go."

Jace didn't know if the way she said she'd never let him go was good or bad, but he let it wash over him and drew closer. "You mother told me you were frantic, she begged me to come because she said she couldn't help you. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"It's difficult to explain, dear husband," Clary smiled up dangerously at him. "No, far too complicated. Perhaps you had best just let me to my own, or maybe, read to me. I would like that."

"Would that I could, but I'm far too worried for you," Jace said and knelt down beside her. Carefully, he reached his hand up and ran it through Clary's hair, soothing her the only way he knew how. Clary looked at him with strange, empty eyes.

"I'm a monster, Jace, it's me. It's been me this whole time and I didn't even know it. I'm the one." She clutched his hand and pulled him close enough to see into the pools of gold. "I'm the monster, not Jonathan."

"What?" Jace asked sharply and his eyes flashed darkly. "Clary, whatever your mother did, it's nothing to do with you, you don't bear her guilt. You are no monster."

"You don't understand," she said and her pulse raced. "You can't possibly begin to understand what I did. All of it, it's my own doing."

"You didn't make your brother hurt you." Jace pulled Clary into his arms, but, unlike all the other times, she didn't melt against his form. She simply lingered in his grip, thousands of miles away. "Clary, speak to me."

"My father poisoned him to take revenge against my mother," explained Clary slowly. "He made Jonathan into a demon child. He must have been so lonely, so desolate, and I turned away from him. I pushed him away and left him for nothing. He turned against me because I betrayed him in his time of need."

Jace met Clary's revelation with silence and confusion at first, but the words came together and he began to see what had been done. His repulsion for Valentine had been bad, but now, as he came to understand the horror of Valentine's betrayal, he shuddered. What father would condemn his own son to the hell that awaited him, all for a woman? In his arms, Clary was shaking badly, and Jace had never been more grateful for the girl than he was now. Of all the terrible things that had happened to her by the hands of her family, she had escaped mostly unharmed, mostly whole.

"I love you, Clary," he murmured against her ear, and Clary turned about to face him in shock.

"Didn't you hear me? I destroyed my brother as much as my father. He loved me, and I threw it all back in his face. How he must hate me, how he must despise me." She ran her hands through her hair, trembling. "All this time, I thought it was me who deserved pity, and I see now, how wrong I was."

"Clary, how could you have known? How could you have done any better by Jonathan than what you did? He hurt you, and yes, it was not necessarily what the boy you knew would have done, but he still did it. These things, they can't be undone; he will bear their guilt and you will remember them always."

"I'm move forward," Clary said resolutely. "I'll grow, I'll be better. That way, when I meet Jonathan again, I'll accept his darkness, and help him find the light. As I should have done when we were children."

Jace was privately thinking he would never let Clary back to her brother, but he nodded all the same. "You'll be brilliant, Clary, you'll be an angel."

"No, certainly no angel," Clary muttered bleakly. "But I'll fix what I've done. I'll fix what my father did, what my mother did, what this dark world did. I'll make it right again."

"I have no doubt," conceded Jace. "Why don't you come back inside, Clary? I'll get you tucked in bed and find a nice cup of tea for you to sip before you sleep. You'll like it."

Clary eyes, though, were still distant and oddly unfocused, as if she were seeing things he couldn't. When his offer registered, she smiled that edge of a smile Jace had come to anticipate with an odd stirring of excitement. "I'll take the bed, but you can hold the tea. I'm sure we can think of better ways between the two of us to help me sleep."

"You're very forward, madam," Jace said formally. He was glad they had turned the conversation from such dark talk, but it didn't sit well with him that Clary's response to such a revelation was to play between the sheets with him, but if it made her happy, then why fight it? He e smiled roguishly. "I like that most about you."

"In your case, I'm always moving forward," she assured, and then rose, her eyes on the house uncertainly. "Is my mother gone away for the night?"

"She put Max in bed and retired," Jace informed her, hoping she'd accept being in the same house as her mother. "I think we're quite alone from her."

"I don't think I could face her now," Clary admitted, and she looked down shamefully. "I don't know what to do about her. I just don't know."

"A good long sleep might reveal the answer," said Jace, and draped his arm about her hip. "Come inside, little one." Jace led Clary away from the ruined flowers and dirt and dark, into the warmth and light.


	12. To Pass the Time

To Pass the Time 

The next morning was very quiet, not even the sound of birds was there to wake Clary, nor the gentle hand of the sun to stroke her face, and so she slept on. It was Jace who rose early to the sound of Clary's breath as it came in short gasps: her nightmares had returned. She turned against Jace and tucked herself into the circle of his arms.

"You just keep sleeping, little one," Jace urged, and he kissed her. His hand lingered on the curve of her neck and then slipped down her bare shoulder, and over to the small inlet that marked the curve of her hip. His fingers toyed there, enjoying the thoughts that it brought back: Clary's small, white body pressed perfectly into his, her face buried in his neck, her lips at work, he could remember, too, the sounds she made as he touched her, and the feel of her fingers digging into his shoulders as she gripped him.

_She had been oddly…_alive _last night, _he thought. _For all her sadness and miserly, oddly alive. _He didn't think he was going to forget the hard look in her eyes that night in the garden. _Perhaps this is more to do with Jonathan than I know. Maybe she's still sick in her mind and heart? I'll ask Magnus. _

Jace dropped one final kiss on Clary's cheek before he clambered swiftly out of bed. His feet touched the floor, but unlike his home, the wood floors held the heat well, and he padded quickly to the closet for a dressing robe before going and finding Jocelyn. She owed him a very good explanation and he was anxious to hear the tale. As he passed down the quiet corridors, he paused outside Max's and softly, checked in on the boy. They were, after all, only keeping watch over him, and Isabelle had taken his safety paramount over any other. He didn't think failing her at this point was going to strengthen her liking of him. Max, however, was tucked in tight, his head cradled by a large pillow.

With everything in order, he went to the kitchen to wait; however, Jocelyn had seemed to beat him to the cue, and she was seated, picking over a bowl of oatmeal, fresh berries mixed in and a piece of toast with butter cooling in the morning air. When she saw him, the monarch made her appearance, and she graciously rose and gestured him to the table. Before he could begin, she fixed him his food and then sat to watch him eat the first bit. It had been so long since Jace had taken etiquette classes that he was at a loss for a few minutes.

"I believe a thank you is in order," Jocelyn began, and Jace raced through his years as training for a courtier. Was she trying to mock him? "I mean from me, Jace," she clarified, and then smiled graciously. "Thank you, Jace, for taking care of Clary when I could not."

"It seems that has always been my job," he said in a hard voice. "You have much to account for, Jocelyn, much I'm keen to hear."

"Of course you are," she said reasonably. "You are, after all, her husband; the one person in this world she can trust implicitly. It stands to reason that you love her, and your love has brought you here."

"I was never fond of word games," Jace said, cutting off the conversation he suspected she had planned. "Cut to the quick! Tell me what all this nonsense is about Jonathan being a demon, made by Valentine's own hand."

"To tell you that, Jace, I must speak of love, for it's the most powerful force in this world now," she said gravely. "This mess was gotten out of poisoned love, and I fear the only way to fix it now is of the same. Please, for Clary's sake, hear my tale and judge for yourself. But, remember, it was for love, all for love. Think on that while you listen."

Jocelyn launched into her tale before Jace had time to quip, but he needn't have. Her words were like poison lurching along his blood, sickening him at every turn. He had thought that Clary might have been overacting, as she had been known to, but this, it seemed, was no story. Valentine's evil had gone too far, and it seemed it had sprung from the root of something so pure. As she rounded her tale, Jace couldn't help but think that history was repeating itself, that they were bound to their roles already: He, the lover, Clary, the loved, and Jonathan, the maddened; Valentine had practically been two people, so split was his personality. How, he wondered, was this supposed to be resolved?

"Well, it certainly explains why Valentine killed his Circle," Jace said contemplatively, almost five minutes after the story's completion. "Word must have gotten out about what he had done to Jonathan and his Circle revolted."

"It was me, actually," Jocelyn whispered. "I told the first person I could think of, the first person I knew Valentine would come for if I ran."

"Luke?" Jace guessed.

"You mother," Jocelyn said, confused by his answer. "Celine, of course. I knew that Valentine would want you, Jace, to fix what he had broken. Through you, he knew he could get a proper hair, a grandson, un-poisoned, perfectly normal. I sent word to your mother to move you, forbid your father from taking you to court. I couldn't bear to tell her why, only that Valentine had horrible designs for you, and she must keep you away from the court and my husband."

"He wanted me?" Jace asked, disgusted.

"He had failed with Jonathan," she shrugged. "He thought I would kill him, but when I couldn't, he realized he was trapped with the demon child who would one day claim the throne. Jonathan was trained to be the perfect king, and all those years were for naught with one blow. A demon cannot rule men." Jocelyn shook her head. "He wanted to start again with you. Make you his perfect little king, his perfect soldier, his perfect father to his perfect heir. I was scared he might try and hurt you like he did my son."

Jace swallowed back his surprise and kept his face in a well trained look of interest. He had always figured he was just an ends to a mean for Jocelyn. He was the man who would take care of Clary when she needed help, care for her when she was hurt, protect her when she was in danger. It had seemed to him that he was a servant of hers, brought on simply to do a duty. Jace had never suspected that she might have a care for him. It unsettled him that the woman he had learned to hate had, all along, been trying to serve him.

"He did seem rather pleased when I came along," Jace hedged.

"Yes, I can imagine Valentine was ecstatic to see you darken his doorway. You were the solution to his problem." Jocelyn's face turned darker. "I almost wonder if he was going to kill Jonathan once he had you and Clary along. Or, at least once you'd gotten Clary with child."

"Jonathan hated me," Jace said. "He might have known what his fate was."

Jocelyn waved a hand carelessly. "Jonathan hated you because you took Clary from him, that was all. I don't think he ever held any fondness for Valentine, at least not anymore. Or, maybe, the demon blood just exacerbated his most juvenile tendencies."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, Jonathan always hated you," she said as if it meant nothing. "When he was a little boy, he would play all manner of games with Clary. They liked to pretend he was king and she queen, and they would spend days ruling their little kingdom. I thought it was good for him to learn the role of a leader, but he threw quite a fit the day we left to visit your mother after you were born. We explained to him the whole concept of a betrothal, and how you and Clary would be married, and he was furious. He thought that he was going to be king and Clary his queen, just like in their games. Maybe, even years later, it clung to him.

"I managed to convince him that you were going to be his new little brother-it was the only way he would accept the idea. But I think all along he's been bitter toward you. After all, Clary was his little sister until you came along."

Jace raised an eyebrow, intrigued. _He never tried to kill me, _Jace realized. _All those chances and he never did. He hates me, of course, and he'll try to make me miserable, but he won't kill me. _It made Jace shiver, wondering what his future might hold if Jonathan ever did win out. "Regardless of how he feels toward me, that brings us to Clary. You must see how much danger she's in now, now that Clary has told you the truth."

"I can certainly understand the need for caution, and more so, though she will hate to hear this, the need to keep you two protected." Jocelyn raised her hand to his argument. "Jace, be reasonable. If Jonathan is as obsessed as he seems, then he'll come looking for Clary, and he'll go to any means to get her: yourself, included. I can see the only option we have is to keep you two under close eye."

"Clary won't like it," Jace said swiftly. "You know how much she hates being locked up, let alone locked up with you. No offense, but she harbors a few resentments."

"I'm not offended." Jocelyn lifted her chin. "I hope one day she'll learn to forgive me my crimes, but for now, I'm more concerned with her safety than her love. You and I, Jace, need to come to an agreement."

Jace turned away. It was not what he wanted, betraying the girl he loved, but how could he deny Jocelyn when she was so right? Clary was in danger, more danger than they had known. Somewhere Jace recognized his own sacrifices he was going to have to make, but they seemed trivial in the end.

"What type did you have in mind?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm not asking for you to lie to Clary, Jace, I would never ask you to hurt my daughter," she sighed. "No, all I want is for you to help me with her when it comes time to make a decision on where you two might consider living."

"I was unaware we had a choice."

"Well, the Clave is going to start opening the homes of people again, but there's going to be a lot of risk involved. They're going to be keeping close watch on the homes, on the people, on everything. I just feel that maybe it's best you two stay here, away from prying eyes."

Jace pressed his lips together. "I don't think I have a choice."

"You are more than welcome to go on disliking me, Jace, more than welcome to tell Clary how much you hate me, how domineering I am, how underhanded, but if I have your word that you'll side with me when I bring up living arrangements, that's all I ask."

There was something so sad about Jocelyn knowing about how he felt, and it made him sick. This woman had not been the kindest mother, but she had been certainly better than he had guessed. It seemed that all along he had been playing a hard hand, and now she was calling him on it, unhurt and not offended, simply accepting.

"It's not that I don't like you," Jace said softly. "I just feel that Clary has been misused by everyone in her family, yourself included, and she is my wife. She is the woman I love. If someone hurts her, I will always rise in her defense."

"Admirable sentiment, and I assure you, I am happy to know my daughter has the love and care of a man such as yourself. I just want you to help me help her."

Jace bowed his head. "I'll do as you ask, Jocelyn, but it will go hard on your daughter."

"I had no doubt." Jocelyn rose and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt. "I'm going to the Clave now, and I don't think I'll be back till late this evening. Give me your word on the Angel that you will stay here and keep Clary and Max with you."

"My word?"

"I need to know that you will stay where it's safe," she said without emotion. "The Clave is looking for a reason to drag you two before it, so wandering about is not going to help our cause. Give me your word, Jace."

Jace felt that usual tightness in his throat whenever he gave an oath against his will. "My word on the Angel that I'll stay here and keep Clary and Max with me."

"See to it," was all she said. "When I come home, I'd like to talk to Clary, so bear that in mind."

"It will be hard to forget," Jace replied caustically, and then watched her go. "Might as well get comfortable since I'll be here a while."

Jace passed back upstairs, and was met by Max, who was staring accusingly at him. "You said I could stay up all night!"

"I said you could stay up as long as you kept your eyes open," Jace corrected, smiling at the seriousness on Max's face. "You were the one who dozed off midway through a book. I just saw you into bed."

Max crossed his arms. "I didn't _want _to go to bed early. Once I go back to Isabelle she'll make me get in bed whenever the sun goes down. You didn't go to bed whenever the sun went down when you were my age."

Jace smirked. "My mother was a harder master than you might think. I not only had to be in bed by sundown, I had to be asleep once the moon rose. You were awake well into the night as I recall."

"I don't remember that."

"Because you were asleep," Jace said and rustled Max's hair. "Is Clary awake yet, Max, or have I married a lazy lay about?"

"I didn't hear her," he said, and peeked at the door. "Can I go in?"

Jace thought of Clary's current state of undress and quickly pushed him aside. "No, no, I think I'll see to her. There is oatmeal and fresh fruit downstairs though, if you're hungry. Why don't you eat a bowl?"

"I'm not hungry," he said, peering at the door.

"Yes you are, go eat." Jace nudged him to the stairs and saw him stomp down them. When he heard the clink of a spoon in a bowl, he made for his room.

As he had left her, Clary was spread out on the bed, only half covered by a blanket. She made such a perfect image, the light of the rune stone sky brushing her back with a faint greenish glow. It seemed unearthly. He decided instead to sit and wait for her to rise, thinking over all he had learned. All he knew was that he had never been more happy that Clary had been lucky enough to escape her family's horrible poison.

"Jace?" Clary asked sleepily, her hand stretching out on the bed beside her. When she didn't feel Jace bedside her, the usual panic set in. "Jace, where are you?"

"Don't panic, little one," he said, going to her quickly. "I'm right beside you."

Clary's eyes fluttered open and he saw the hazy recognition. "I've been having nightmares lately, bad ones," she explained, and sat up to nestle herself against Jace. "It's always the same, too. I'm back in the castle, except I'm in my mother's room, the queen's waiting chamber, and I'm surrounded by all these horrible half woman-half animal things, and they have a mouth full of razor teeth, and they're sowing, but they have talons instead of hands. They're all over and I can't leave. And then…Jonathan comes." Clary eyes were tearing up, her hands working madly, pulling on his sleeve. "He's coming for me, and I can't move, I can't even turn away from him when he stands before me. He reaches his hand out, and, just before he touches me, light streams in and the nightmare ends."

"It's over, Clary," Jace assured her, and took her chin firmly in his grasp. "I would never let Jonathan hurt you."

"I know," Clary murmured. "I know that, and then the nightmare ends, and when I wake up, you're beside me. Would that there would never be another night, simply days and days of this life with you."

"You have all my days and all my nights," Jace promised. "However, it's day now, and it's about time you greet it. Your mother has left for the Clave and the house is yours, mine, and Max's. We've got a day to spend, what shall we do?"

Clary thought of the flowers she had torn up the night before, and how she wanted to set to right any signs of her distress. "Let's be outside today, in the back garden. We can paint and read and eat. I could teach Max to draw a tree, and you two could practice sparring."

"A fine idea," Jace proclaimed. "I'll find the boy, dress yourself, though," and here, Jace looked like his usual, conniving self, "I, personally, am a huge fan of the no clothes look. I love what you're doing with the hair and chest and blanket area. Very stylishly bed-tossed."

Clary threw a pillow at the door as he closed it. But Jace heard a sprinkle of laughter.

* * *

"Do you think he's alright, Simon?" Isabelle asked for what must have been the hundredth time. She was peering out the window of their small house, her anxious face reflected back in the dim lighting. "Do you Max is safe?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Simon replied quickly, refusing to give in to boredom. He had grown up proper, as he liked to say, and he had been taught very early to attend a woman's needs. Isabelle was anxious, scared even, and though Simon knew little of Max, he knew the boy mattered to Isabelle, and it was all the reason he needed to sit with her for hours and be a calm voice of comfort. "You heard what the teacher said, a young shadowhunter man with gold hair, gold eyes, and gold skin came up and Max went running to him. It was Jace."

Isabelle tugged her hair worriedly. "But is he _alright_? Just because Max is with Jace and Clary doesn't mean that he's safe. Those two were already in the sights of the Clave, what if they had to go, and they left Max somewhere, or with someone who-"

"Isabelle," Simon said, and he joined her beside the window. He didn't touch her, though his every fiber begged him to; instead he clasped his hands behind his back as his father liked to do and stood close enough to let her decide for him. "As much as I sometimes detest Jace, he is an honorable man, not one to simply up and leave Max. Besides, Clary with surely be with them, and she is a good woman. She won't leave your brother to the hounds."

"What if she didn't have a choice?" she asked swiftly.

"Even then, I think Clary would have found a place for him with someone she trusted." Simon watched Isabelle closely and found that even in her panic, she cut a charming, graceful line. He admired the determined set of her chin, the resilience and self-reliance he saw in her, so uncharacteristic of the women of the court who waited for someone to do for them. "But regardless, you must come away from the window and stop your worrying. Eat something, I beg you, it's been a day and you haven't had a bite."

"I'm sick with fear," she admitted, but let Simon take her hand in his elbow and lead her away to their kitchen. She went to the stove, but Simon drew her back and put her before the table. "Allow me, Isabelle, you're in no humor for this. Drink some wine." He poured her a glass, placed it before a seat at their table, and then found a pan to fry meat in. As the fire crackled to life, he cut bread. "You need to think of something to take your mind off Max."

"Tell me about yourself," Isabelle said after a moment. She knew vaguely that Simon was the only man who would have sat with her all day and night, listening to her muttered fears, and it woke an interest in her. She had never known men to seek her company when she was anything less than charming.

Simon's eyes darted to her and then returned to bread. "I've not led so interesting a life as you might think; especially when compared to the folk here. If you're expecting a tale the likes of which Jace could spin, you'll be displeased."

"I don't want a horror story," Isabelle said shortly, and Simon was surprised she thought of Jace's life that way. "I just want to hear something nice for a change. The months since my parents were killed have been long and bitter, and the people with it. Don't misunderstand me, I adore Clary and Jace, but they have sad lives, and I'm tired of being sad."

"In that case," Simon began, "I have only recently been the son of a Duke, but it seems, I have lost that title already. My father was a simply a Lord at court, and I spent a lot of my time as a child in our manor house learning my trade. When I was ten, I first came to court."

"Ten?" Isabelle asked loudly. "You were ten when they brought you _there_?"

Simon shrugged indifferently. "It is the way things are. But I don't begrudge it. I came to court when I was ten to be an apprentice to a page to a lord- I was too young to be the page myself. Anyway, I came to court."

"And did you like it there?" Isabelle smiled.

"Well, no, I didn't at first." Simon paused, trying to remember those first days. "At court, your life is determined the moment you walk through the door. Whoever your father is, is who you will be, and even as boys, we fell into ranks. I wasn't the lowest, but I certainly wasn't the highest. Had Jace come to court, he would have been so far beyond my reach we would have risen and slept at different times." He laughed amicably but saw Isabelle's stark confusion.

"There's no nonsense like that in the country," said Isabelle with a sniff. "If you can hunt for your family, trade well, build a good home, you are well-off."

"Our lives certainly have been different."

"If you didn't like it there, why stay? Couldn't you have asked your father to send you back to the country?"

Simon laughed hollowly. "A son sent home? There is no greater dishonor, Isabelle. No, I wouldn't have asked to be sent home even had I lost a leg, but it didn't matter in the long run. After two weeks of this pageboy nonsense, I was passing by the stables, and I heard a loud argument between two children, maybe my own age."

Isabelle smiled a little wider. "It was Clary?"

"Aye, Clary, and she was arguing with Jonathan." Simon paused as he remembered that day, once that could have turned into the worst, but had turned into a life-defining moment, as he told Isabelle.

There had been arguing, loud high voices of children, and it was that which caught Simon's attention. He had never known children to argue before, especially at court. There were rules to follow, honor to uphold, a family name to remember. Arguing in a horse stable like a commoner was the last place to be. Curious, Simon drew inside and peeked around the edge of the first stable.

"You said to hold out my hand!" It was girl, a small, doll-like girl with red curls tied back with ribbon. She was dressed in rich velvet, her boots finest leather, and in her ears and around her neck, a string of pearls. She was frowning like a spoiled queen.

"I said hold you to your hand _flat_," said the boy with an exasperated sigh. _"Flat._" Simon peered a little closer at the boy, wondering which of his peers he had caught with a little lady. He didn't recognize the boy though, not the fine, white blond hair, the dark eyes set in a delicately boned face, nor the way he held himself, tall and proud, ready for a challenge.

"I don't remember that."

"Well," said the boy, "if you had been paying more attention to me and less to the damn horses, you might remember more."

Simon gasped at the curse, but the girl brushed it off like it were nothing. "No, you're just a poor teacher. Father is right, I need a proper horse master."

"Nonsense," he replied. "You're an improper student is all."

The girl's face colored in indignation and she swept her gaze away from the bossy boy. Her eyes, suddenly came upon Simon, and he felt his stomach drop. She had the most stunning pair of green eyes, like tiny emeralds, and they were bright with curiosity and cunning. When she saw him, her smile turned up devilishly.

"Here's some proper help at last," the girl said, and beckoned him forward. Simon swallowed hard and inched closer, feeling the powerful gaze of the boy on him. "Look here, my brother says all you have to do is hold out your hand to feed a horse-"

"I said do it flat!"

"-but I say otherwise. Now, you look like a boy who knows his stuff, and you can probably tell me, is he right?"

Simon felt the girl's playful gaze on his face and he stared down at his feet. "Maybe it's the horse, milady? You held your hand the proper way your brother suggested, but the horse is blind?"

The girl and her brother exchanged looks and then the girl laughed, clapping her hands. "Of course! An excellent answer. Who are you?" She came forward and hooked her arm in his carelessly. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"I'm Simon Lewis," he answered uncertainly, and saw the other boy's look of recognition. "Son of Lord Lewis."

"Simon Lewis." The girl tasted the name before proclaiming: "I like it! I'm Clarissa Morgenstern, but you, Simon Lewis, can call me Clary. This unhelpful young man is my brother, Jonathan."

_That _name hit home and Simon reeled, his eyes darting to the face of the boy, who was now smirking. "Jonathan Morgenstern? Prince Jonathan?"

"Oh, don't," Clary sighed dramatically. "It gives him such an ego, and he's got big enough one already. He's just Jonathan and I'm just Clary. You're just Simon." Simon was still trying to make a bow, but Clary jerked him. "He'll never grow out of it if you don't stop now. What do you do here Simon? I don't remember you as part of my father's court."

"I've only just come," he explained. "I've haven't had much free time to look around."

"Well, come with me then," said Clary decisively. "I'll show you the castle and the grounds, and all my favorite places to hide and read."

And after that, Clary and Simon were the closest of friends. From that day on she'd spent every day she could with Simon, reading in the library, playing in the garden, and even studying together in her room. Though Valentine had been thoroughly against his daughter spending so much time with a lesser lord's son, it was decidedly better than any of the other children who might try and pry her secrets out of her.

"You've known her all her life," Isabelle said contemplatively. "Does that mean you've known Jonathan?"

Simon frowned at that. "I knew of him, to say the least. I didn't run with the same crowd as him, I don't think anyone did, but I especially wasn't with his league. I suppose you might have found Jace there, had he been at court."

"Then you were lucky," was all Isabelle said.

"I'd say so." Simon smiled fondly. "I met Clary." Isabelle glanced up as Simon came over with a plate of meat and bread. He placed it before her with a flourish. "Your meal, milady."

"Thank you," Isabelle murmured, and smiled to herself at his efforts. "And thank you for staying with me, Simon; the last few days have been a nightmare, what with the alarms and the demons and Max being missing."

"No, Isabelle, it's been my pleasure." Simon held up his hands. "It is the proper thing for a gentleman to do. I was worried about you, besides."

"Worried about me?" Isabelle asked sharply. She had rarely had a man be concerned for her, simply interested in her. "Why would you be worried?"

Simon laughed. "Because you're my friend and I would never leave a friend alone in such a chaotic time. I am more than happy to stay another night, if you'd like."

Isabelle recalled Maia's words about making her interest in Simon known, and she felt her lips turn up in that familiar smile, but saw that his face was wary of it. She wondered what was going through his mind as he watched her display, and tried to temper her flirtation. "I'd like you to stay another night, if you don't mind. I'm not used to such silence, and I'm a fair bit worried over what the day will hold. I keep wondering if we're to go to war."

Simon tipped his head graciously. "I'm sure your brother will have news, and he won't be away long. If it is war, you should not fear, Isabelle, you've enough friends here to take care of you."

Isabelle smiled, but this time, it wasn't her usual narrow, cunning smile. It was open, inviting, and even gracious. Though Isabelle would never admit it, she was scared, scared that her family was going to be split permanently, that her brother might die, that the life she had finally adjusted to, was going to be ruined. She moved her seat around to his, in a fashion that in the court would have been completely uncalled for, but for a farmer, was nothing short of common place. She rested her hand over his and squeezed gently. "I'm glad you're here with me, Simon."


	13. Calm Before the Storm

**So, this coming up week is going to be a little more hectic than the others I've had so far. There's still a lot of work left on my research, and a paper, and an exam, so I regret to say, I will not be posting a chapter next week. My hope is that after Saturday, I can start work on this again, and then, that following weekend, the weekend of the 23****rd****, I'll have a chapter posted. Sorry everyone!**

Calm Before the Storm

Clary made dinner that night, and they ate outside, enjoying the blanket of quiet that had fallen on the homes. For Max, who had never really known war, it was a peaceful kind of silence, the silence that came after a long day, and he enjoyed it as much as he could, chomping away on the meat Clary had prepared, laughing at amusing stories Jace told, and wearing himself out on the hours after he spent practicing sparring. For Clary and Jace, though, the silence carried a weight with it that set them both on edge. They both knew too much of war and violence and loss to mistake this quiet for anything by the calm before the storm. They played the role of carefree parents well for Max, but in their hearts, they both felt heavy with despair.

"I think it's time to head in, Max," Jace finally said as he heard the crunch of dirt outside and the door being tossed open. "It must be late if Jocelyn is back."

"It's only just past dark," Max whined. "Can't I please stay up? I won't tell Isabelle."

Clary and Jace shared a look. Jace wanted Max tucked in tight before he and Jocelyn breeched the subject of housing arrangements, but Clary didn't see the point in sending the boy off when there still so much time to do things. "How about one more mug of mulled ale and we'll see if my mother keeps pastries for a nighttime snack, then it's off to bed."

Max looked unpleased, but seemed to know the alternative route was bed then. "Alright, I suppose."

Clary shooed Max back inside just as Jocelyn was coming to greet them. They were shocked to see how drawn and tired her face was, like she'd gone many nights with no sleep, and there was an edge to her voice when she spoke. "You've had a good day?"

"Just been outside," Jace answered. "Max, go into the kitchen and get a mug for yourself. Jocelyn, do you have anything that might be classified as a pastry?"

Jocelyn followed Jace past her with her eyes, but remained by the door. "Yes, in the top cupboard on the far right; there should be some sweet bread in there. It might be a little stale, but I'm sure a young boy can make due."

"I think I'll manage," Max said seriously and then made for the kitchen.

"Clary," Jocelyn said, catching her daughter's arm as she made to pass. "I have news from the Clave, and I'd like to speak with you and Jace this evening. Do you have the time for that?'

Clary, determined to be civil with her mother after the previous evenings outburst, nodded regally. "Of course. You don't mind, though, if I join Jace and Max now, do you?"

"Not at all," said Jocelyn, oddly formal. "Take your time. I have some notes to transcribe as it is, so I'll take my dinner in my study and join you two later."

Clary tipped her head and let her breath go in a sigh of relief as her mother left. _One day, you'll have to face her for good or bad. One day, you're going to have to accept what she told you last night._

"Not now," said Clary aloud, and then went to join Jace.

Jace was seated before Max, telling him some tale of his childhood and Max was watching him over a humorously large mug of ale, eyes alight. "You didn't actually convince a blind man that your mule was a white stallion?"

"I certainly _hope _he didn't," said Clary loudly, joining them at the table. "As the son of a duke, that would be a very improper thing to do. A scandal to any good, respectful lord."

"Not so much as you might think," replied Jace, winking at Max. "I once heard of a woman, a lady at court, who kept a handsome young man in her rooms at all times, a _very_ handsome man, I might add. One with the looks and charm of an angel."

"And did this man have a name?" asked Clary, smiling knowingly

"No, just the son of some old duke is what I heard," Jace said reasonably. "Not much to say there, not much to say for him, either. Very likely, the young man lost his fortune and his name, and ran off, half mad, driven there by the woman."

"I find that hard to believe," Clary sniffed while Max giggled.

"Yes, well, good thing it wasn't you, was it?" Jace returned and dodged a napkin Clary scooped up and threw at him. "So, Clary, what news does your mother bring?"

"Nothing really," she shrugged, eyes on Max. "If there's any news, she'll let us know once she finishes her meal and her work. She's in her study now."

Jace shot Max a look. "You're a lucky boy. As long as Jocelyn is upstairs, you're down here."

Max gave a shout and began drinking his wine much faster. Clary plucked a piece of sweet bread from a plate and chewed it, listening as Jace launched back into his story. At the end, Max looked pleased to be up and about. "We had a mule on our farm. It was the worst! He wouldn't let you ride him, he wouldn't pull a cart, he wouldn't do anything that wasn't eating grass. And he bit me once, too!"

Jace smiled widely. "The dangers of a farmer are endless."

"But I'm not a farmer," Max reminded him. "Not anymore. I'm going to be a proper soldier, a warrior-like you. There's nothing fun or brave about being a farmer. I think it's embarrassing."

"No it's not," said Jace sharply. "Max, there is much dignity in the life of a farmer. You till the land that gives life to the people. Without farmers, the country could not survive, because I assure you, we courtiers never learned the art of a green thumb. I loved the country when I was a young man, and I still do."

Max sighed. "It's no fun when everyone around you is a soldier and you're the one with the hoe."

"At least you'll live to tell the tale," Clary pointed out.

"That's what Alec says," Max said darkly. "He says Isabelle and I should be happy being farmers, and that once all this is over, we can go back to the land, but I don't want to. I like it here too much, and I think Alec's just afraid."

Jace considered Alec. "Your brother is not a coward, just more cautious and thoughtful than others. You should give him half a chance to explain himself to you."

Max looked into his drink. "Maybe, but sometimes I think he's just scared."

"He's just being careful," Clary said softly.

"I'm glad you think that," said a voice from behind. They turned about and, standing in the entrance to the kitchen, was Alec, Magnus Bane at his side. "People keep telling me I'm just being unreasonable, and all the while, I'm sure I'm the one who's got it right."

"Alec!" Max cried, and jumped up, racing to his brother. Alec smiled down at his brother as he ran head-long into him, tossing his twig arms around his older brother's legs. "Alec, where have you been? Did you fight? Did you go to the big council? Did you get to see demons?"

Jace's eyes were like lasers, and Alec could see that at least one of Max's questions sparked an interest in the other boy. "It's hard to explain, Max, and I'm sure Magnus is a better storyteller than me."

"Undoubtedly," Magnus said, slouching forward in his usual exotic manner. His green eyes glimmered on Clary's face and pulled a smile. "However, not everyone is present, and I want an audience. Clary, where's your mother?"

"I'll fetch her," Clary said at once, feeling both anxious and excited to hear the news. She had no doubt the Clave had designs for both her and Jace, but it thrilled her as much as it terrified her.

Clary rushed up the steps to her mother's study and knocked gently, waiting as the sound of heavy footsteps came closer. "Clary, what is it?" Jocelyn asked the moment she saw the glow in her daughter's eyes.

"Magnus is here, and he says he has news," she said at once. "I think whatever he has to say, you probably want to hear it."

"At once," said Jocelyn, straightening up and tossing back her hair. "Whatever news I was denied, he'll have it. Magnus was sent out with the hunting parties after the attack."

"He was?" was all Clary managed to say before her mother hurried them down the stairs into the living room where Magnus was now seated with a mug of wine, and Alec was showing Max his new dagger.

"Magnus," Jocelyn said as she entered. "I've been expecting you."

"Of course you have Jocelyn," he tipped his head. "Always trying to stay one step ahead of the Clave is hard work I assume. But, as I'm feeling in the generous sort of mood, and as you live right beside me, I'll settle for gossiping with you."

"It's been a long time since I've been called a gossip," was all she said and then gestured to the kitchen. "Are you hungry, thirsty?"

"I am fine," said Magnus, "but Alec might be a little parched. The Clave takes advantage of young, able men." He saw Jace's face darken and then added, "I've touched a nerve it seems."

"Nonsense," said Jocelyn swiftly. "Clary, why don't you fix Alec a plate of whatever it was you were eating earlier? I'm sure it's more than suitable for a guest."

Clary looked properly rebuked, having never had her mother give her a command before. She accepted playing maid to Jace when she was happy being anonymous, but whatever Magnus had to say, she wanted to hear every work of it. She shot her mother a look. "I'd like to hear what Magnus has to say."

"Clarissa," Jocelyn said, and Clary saw a glimmer of the queen her mother had been. "Don't be a rude host." Jocelyn then turned to Magnus, dismissing Clary with the turn of her head. Clary gaped, and she saw Magnus's eyes glimmer and frowned before leaving in something of a fit.

"So, has the Clave been unbearable?" asked Magnus, seeing the tension in every line of Jocelyn.

"This incident has them in an uproar. Even the ones who were opposed to open war seem to have no choice any more. If demons have strayed as far as Alicante they fear it's only a matter of time before more come." Jocelyn shook her head. "Now, they are suddenly anxious to have an army at their call, but how we will raise one, I do not know."

"The Clave has begun enlisting the Downworlders openly now. I saw them as we returned from the hunt; the soldiers were in their communities, offering payment for interested men and women."

"Has the Clave called on the humans?" asked Jace, thinking of Isabelle and foolish Simon.

"I don't know," Magnus said. "The Downworlders, humans, and shadowhunters all live in separate neighborhoods during war time. Mostly for the ease of the doctors who treat them," said Magnus to the look of surprise on Jace's face. "If, for instance, a vampire were injured, who would be the most help, a human, a shadowhunter, or someone like me? It makes it more efficient for us to live in different lodgings. Well, almost all of us," he added, glancing down the street of high ranking officials like himself, ones of all walks of life. "We didn't pass the human ghettos to check. I would assume so, since they've called on my kind."

Jace cast Alec an apologetic look, since they were both thinking the same thing. "How soon before they start sending out the hunting parties."

"It's begun," Magnus said simply. "I was part of one of the first, sent out to patrol the city and drive out any demons."

"Did you find any?" asked Clary, emerging from the kitchen, tray of food in hand. "Were there demons in the city?"

Magnus nodded his head tiredly. "Oh, yes, there were a fair few. Nothing too horrible, nothing with the brains to have plotted the attack on its own, but definitely thoughtful enough to try and avoid us when we came."

"Did it try and attack?" Jace asked.

Magnus shrugged. "Anything will fight back when it's cornered, but do you mean, was it on the offensive? No, the thing was as surprised as we were to find it there. It seemed to me that the pack we came across did not come here with any intentions. I believe, at least, that the demons were simply wandering in search of new hunting territories and came too far."

Clary sighed in relief. "Then they weren't sent here by Jonathan."

"Not quite," Magnus said swiftly. "Though they were wandering, it wasn't chance that sent them so far north when there were plenty of other places to stop and stay a while. I think Jonathan ordered them this far, and that when they got here, decided to linger."

"Well, you can't be sure," Clary said quickly.

"No, but I'm going to tell the Clave that," Magnus answered. "Regardless of when sent them this far, they won't be leaving. There were ten, and we made quick work of them. Even Alec put on a good show, for a farm boy, that is." The name, though, was endearing, and Alec smiled down into his palms, satisfied. "The Clave was pleased enough with our work. Now, Jocelyn, what news do you have, if any?"

Jocelyn shrugged delicately, as if shaking an insect of her arms. "Nothing so much as you. The Clave decided to announce the war, Jonathan's rise, and the current state of affairs. There was also talk of training a specialized group of soldiers, men and women who will, at the end of the year, try to infiltrate Idris and kill Jonathan."

Jace perked up; he would be close enough to eighteen then to convince any shadowhunter to send him. But, when he glanced at Clary, her face was tight with longing and pain; she didn't want Jace to leave her again, especially if it meant leaving her for Jonathan.

"Is it just talk?" Magnus asked seriously.

"Thus far," Jocelyn said ruminatively. "The Clave has decided the best course of action is to train their soldiers for the rest of the year, defending the entire valley that Alicante inhabits, and, unless Jonathan discovers us first, begin sending out hunting parties farther and farther into Idris."

"That sounds like what the Clave would do," snorted Magnus. "Take your time and plan, and all the while, Jonathan amasses his strength. This will never do, not with what we're facing."

"Funny you should mention Jonathan, actually," Jocelyn said oddly, and Clary glanced to her. "I have known you a while now, Magnus, and counted you a friend, and it seems all this time you have been holding back from me."

"How do you figure that?" Magnus asked, eyebrows raised.

"My son," Jocelyn said slowly. "You must have known what he was the moment you laid eyes on him, and all this time, you've been hiding it."

"What he was?" Here, Magnus looked directly to Clary. "I'm pleased to see you have been divulging you mother your secrets, but would you have a care next time to explain my role in your life."

Clary blinked. "I-I told her you helped me."

Magnus faced Jocelyn again. "Then I'm at a loss for your mother's anger."

"You must know what Jonathan is," Jocelyn said in a hard voice. "You, being a warlock, must have recognized some of symptoms. My only wonder is why you never told the Clave."

"I truly have absolutely not the slightest notion as to what you're referring." Magnus's voice grew angry. "I would, however, thank you to leave my upbringing and history into your argument, seeing as I've done you the same curtsey."

"Jonathan!" she cried. "Jonathan has demon blood!"

Alec's eyes grew wide and he snatched a squirming Max against him. Clary flinched away against Jace. Magnus, however, simply blinked and fixed Jocelyn with his usual, exotic stare. "You think the reason Jonathan hurt your daughter was that he had demon blood in him?"

"I know he does," Jocelyn said hurriedly. "Valentine told me he had dosed Jonathan with demon blood, and asked me to prove my love by killing my son. I thought it was all a lie until Clary told me about her past."

Magnus had narrowed eyes. "Even if the boy did have demon blood, which I doubt, it would not make him into some monster. No, his distasteful nature is the culmination of a childhood reared by Valentine and the absence of his mother."

"It was demon blood."

Jace saw Magnus roll his eyes. "Demon blood doesn't mean anything, Jocelyn. You shadowhunters, always in an uproar about a little bad blood. Even if Jonathan has been poisoned, even if he has demon in him, it won't be as if it's driven him mad. _I _am half a demon, technically speaking."

Jocelyn shook her head angrily. "It was _greater_ demon blood."

Magnus blinked slowly. "Where would Valentine have procured such a substance?"

"I don't know what dark deeds my husband undertook, what underhanded deals he made, but I know it was greater demon blood, and I know he gave it to Jonathan. My son is a monster."

Clary turned a cold look on her mother, nothing liking how she dismissed her son as something so crudely, though she herself had done much the same. _Jonathan is her son, after all, _she _at least, should be sympathetic. _Clary knew, though, that she was being unreasonable, and that she just disliked her mother for the sake of disliking.

"If what you say is the truth, Jonathan is more a threat than I ever suspected," Magnus murmured, and his eyes were far away. "A demon child…an angel and a demon, all in one. Alec, we're going to have a late night tonight."

Jocelyn looked to him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"I've never heard of this before, but if you swear Jonathan is truly part greater demon, there must be some precedent set, some precursor to this thing. I just have to find it."

"I'll help!" said Jace at once, chomping at the bit to leave.

"No," Magnus said without even looking his way. "The Clave is anxious to have you and Clary at its fingertip and the ban isn't lifted on the street yet. You'll stay here and Alec and I will go to the library. There must be something…"

Alec looked hopelessly over at Jace and gave him that empty smile. "I'll keep you updated," he promised and then glanced down at Max. "Does my brother have to stay here?"

Magnus barely saw the boy, so wrapped up in his own thoughts. "Yes, the Clave is keeping track of where everyone is and Max is registered here. It will only cause undue harm to bring him with us."

Alec looked down on Max, and Max, looked the picture of an innocent boy. "Listen to me, Maxwell Lightwood, I'm leaving you with Jace and Clary and Jocelyn, but they'll be reporting to me every night. I don't want to hear any word that you've been behaving in any way less than perfect. If I do-"

"Then what?" Max challenged, aware of Jace's eyes on him.

"Then I'll tell Isabelle," he said with a triumphant grin, and saw Max's face drop. "I'm no fool, Max; Isabelle's the only one who can keep a hold on you. Which reminds me, Magnus," he said, and it seemed his voice was the only one that would draw Magnus from his contemplative silence. "I want to contact Isabelle and let her know Max is safe. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes," he said, waving a hand. "We'll it do it tonight in the library once we've gotten settled. I need some privacy and peace of mind."

"Well enough then," Alec said, brushing the stray crumbs of a meal off his pants. "If we've a long night ahead of us, best to start early, don't you think?"

"Yes, why not," muttered Magnus. "Though with the pure size of the library, it hardly seems to matter when we start."

"Sooner rather than later," Alec replied with the hopefulness of a child and crossed the room to then door. "I'll be back soon, Max, so don't let me hear you've been doing anything unruly."

Max sighed dramatically. "I'll be fine."

Alec met Jace's eyes from across the room and winked; Jace smiled back, but it was strained. Magnus turned to face Jocelyn and tipped her an elegant bow. "I'll speak with you as soon as I have any information on the situation."

Jocelyn looked on him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "I hope to hear from you soon then, Magnus. I don't know where else to turn."

"The answer is lost on me," was all he said, and ushered Alec from the room.

Jocelyn watched them go, her eyes lost. "May the Angel help you."

Clary, however, lowered her voice and spoke to Jace. "I don't like that Magnus doesn't know how to help Jonathan. He's always known what to do, when to do it, and it's a bad sign that he doesn't know."

"Clary, he's a young man-"

"Magnus is more than nine hundred years old!" she said swiftly. "He's a warlock, Jace, not a common man. His memory reaches farther than you could possibly imagine."

Jace looked surprised. "Nine hundred?" He thought of the looks shared between Alec and Magnus. "I wonder if Alec knows."

"Alec?" Clary asked aloud. "What would he care?"

"No reason," said Jace quickly, and then caught Jocelyn's eye. She looked at him with that calculating look that was common in Valentine's eyes. "Yes, Jocelyn?"

"Ah, Jace, good, you two are still here. I was hoping I might speak with you about current living arrangements…"

* * *

"Accounting to the current, dangerous situation, the Clave requests that all men and women, human, Downworlder, or shadowhunter, be indoors within the evening hour of seven'o clock. Anyone caught outdoors after this time will be assumed a threat to the safety of the Alicante and taken for questioning by the Silent Brothers. No weapons are allowed within the city limits unless authorized by the Watch. Anyone caught with a weapon will be taken to the Silent Brothers for questioning. No one will leave the city, for any reason, unless authorized by the Clave. Anyone caught trying to leave the city will be taken to the Silent Brother's for questioning."

Clary frowned at the man, dressed all in black, inked in runes, weapons agleam. He seemed like a great figure, perched on the stairs of the library, and Clary felt the weight of his words pressing down on her like nothing so much as chains. Since her life under her father's domineering gaze, Clary had a great dislike of anything that confined her. The edict of the Clave felt as restraining as an order he ever gave her.

"What are the Silent Brothers?" Max asked, tugging Clary's hand to bring her down to his level.

Clary knelt and caught his eye, but it was hard, as she was wearing a long, thick cloak, the one Jace had given her an age ago, it seemed. "They are members of the Clave who can read minds, but they pay a terrible price for the gift. For they are mute."

"Mute?"

Clary drew him even closer. "They have their mouths sown shut, never to speak again, so they might turn their thoughts on greater things."

Max shivered and looked behind him at the werewolf who was peering down at them, trying not to be caught staring. "Can we go, Clary? There are people watching us."

Clary stood, drawing Max against her legs, and led him from the group before anyone else found them out. At her mother's orders, Clary had taken to dressing in a thick cloak, to hide herself from unwanted eyes. The Clave, her mother promised, were still looking for her and Jace, and though they wouldn't arrest them without reason, they would be keen to follow their movements. Clary swept Jace out of the city proper and down the street toward the humans' part of the city.

"Do you think Isabelle missed me?" Max asked after a while, as if he'd been thinking about it a lot. "I don't want her to worry about me," he added defensively.

Clary smiled to herself. "I'm sure Isabelle was very worried, but Magnus told her you were safe, and will continue to be safe. Jace and I won't let anything happen to you."

Max looked up at Clary with a serious face. "You'll protect Isabelle, too, right?"

"Of course," said Clary at once, and then turned him down a street to a line of houses.

The street was silent for the most part, many of the inhabitants in the city proper for news. Most had been in the dark for three days-since the attack-and were anxious to know if their lives were at risk. Magnus had contacted Isabelle, and she had asked him in return if she might see Max as soon as the streets were open once more. Clary had been pleased to hear that Simon was with her, keeping Isabelle from complete panic. Now, they approached a medium house with candles in the windows and a clean gravel walk. Max took off at a run.

"Isabelle!" he cried. "Izzy!"

Clary made to run after him, but the door swung outward and Isabelle tripped down the stairs in her hurry to reach her brother. The two met in an embrace and Isabelle swung Max into the air, turning about and settling him on her hip. "Max, are you alright?" she breathed.

"I'm fine, Izzy, I've been with Jace and Clary. I got to live at this big house with Jocelyn, and I'm learning how to really fight now from Jace, and Jocelyn gave me clothes and they're really nice, and I get to read adventure books every night, and-"

"Alright, alright," she laughed, "you're fine. I just wondered was all." Above Max's head, Isabelle eyes found Clary's and she bowed her head in thanks. "Come in, come in, have a cup of tea, or something stronger if you'd like. Simon's here, Clary."

"I know," Clary said, and followed Isabelle into the house.

Inside, the house was alive with warmth and the smell of cooking meat. Clary glanced around as they entered the kitchen, saw the dishes washed, the laundry hanging out to dry, and a hunk of meat turning on a spit. "You've been busy."

"No," Isabelle said shame-facedly. "This is all Simon. I've been a complete wreck for the last three days and Simon's been taking care of me."

Clary opened her mouth to speak, but Simon came into the kitchen then, tired but pleased. "You hardly need taking care of, Isabelle. I've just been doing the busy work. Clary, it's wonderful to see you, but where's your husband?"

"Jace is at the library right now with Magnus and Alec, trying to find anything he can about Jonathan. It's not been easy work," Clary sighed. "Especially with the Clave breathing down our necks."

"What do they want with you?" Simon asked, going to check the meat.

"Just to have us in their sights. I think the Clave expects me to have some wonderful secret talent they can use against Jonathan, and so they're hoping to bring me in and draw it out. Jace is just caught in the aftermath."

"I suppose you're keeping your head down," Isabelle said, gesturing at the cloak.

"My mother's suggestions," Clary shrugged. "We're still living with her, as it's the safest we can be. She has quite some pull with the Clave and spare room. Max is plenty welcome."

"I can't thank you enough," Isabelle said. "Really, if Jace hadn't taken Max from school I don't know what would have become of him."

Clary thought of the eyes of the Clave and their newest laws, and she wondered just how far the Clave was willing to go to get what it wanted. Was Max safe? Or Isabelle and Alec, for that matter? "Don't fear, Isabelle, we'll look out for each other. All of us for all of us."


	14. The Demon King

The Demon King

"You're going to wear a permanent rut in the floor with all your pacing," observed Jace from his place on the couch. "Clarissa's Testament to Time, we can call it. Though I suppose it will give your mother quite a job if she ever wished to sell this place and move on with her life. Imagine trying to explain this to a potential buyer."

"Don't you have something valuable to do with your time?" Clary growled, though she appreciated the sound of Jace's voice more than anything else.

"I'm doing it," said Jace, and indicated the book splayed open in his lap. "I've been pouring over these texts for the last week, searching for something that might help us with Jonathan. So far, the best thing I can think of is just lobbing his head off."

Clary smiled wanly at Jace and left her place by the window overlooking the road outside. Evening was falling in anyway, and even though she was inside her residence, she suspected the Clave might arrest her under suspicion of being…well, being suspicious. Jace was lying on the couch, but it didn't stop Clary from tossing herself down on his lap. She sighed and turned an ear to the door, listening for the sound of Max who was supposed to be helping her prepare dinner.

"It might upset my mother if we just lob her son's head off," mused Clary, though a part of her was unsettled by the idea of killing Jonathan as well. "Besides, if Jonathan could be cured, he could prove a useful tool to the Clave. He's an excellent warrior."

"So are you," said Jace softly. "Valentine raised you both, Clary, when are you going to accept that his training wasn't any better than yours?"

"I've seen him fight," was all Clary said, and her hand mindlessly rubbed Jace's. "And what about you, Jace? We know Valentine did something to you, or at least he tried. He gave your mother something while she was pregnant with you."

Jace smirked at Clary's worried look. "Come off it, girl. Look at me; I'm stunningly attractive, witty, charming, and am in possession of some other notable traits. Would it really be fair if I had other gifts besides the ones I was born with?"

Clary tweaked Jace's nose in response. "One of those traits must be your insurmountable modesty. I've never met a man more humble or sweet."

"No arguments here," Jace muttered, turning his eyes back on his book, but Clary laughed and wrestled the book from his hands.

"There's something more to you, Jace; mark my words, there's something more and before this war is out, we'll know." Clary was so serious then that Jace was reminded of the princess he had first encountered.

"If it will help me protect you, then we certainly will know," Jace replied, and then his eyes darted to the door and the sound of Max's footsteps. As Max rounded the corner, Jace sat up and Clary rearranged her skirts.

"I've finished the potatoes and carrots," Max said dully, eyeing the book in Clary's hand with dislike. Since Jace had been enlisted by Magnus his time for training Max had been cut. "Do you want me to help with the pork?"

Clary rose up and dusted off her skirts. "No, I'll see to that, but if you'd set the table and cut the bread, that'd be wonderful. Jace, why don't you set the books aside and make yourself useful about the house?"

Jace scrunched his nose up. "I'm helpless, Clary. Take pity on me and spare me this torment."

Hands on hips and eyes glittering, Clary dangled the book before him and shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't let that happen. We have company coming over anyway, and I don't want this fare any less than the best we can offer."

"It's just Alec and Magnus," scoffed Jace. "It's not like either of them is expecting a feast."

"Alec and Magnus have both been busy." Clary led them out of the library. "Every day they've been sent out, guarding the city, and it's the least we could do not to offer them a proper meal."

Jace flushed, wishing he could be out of the city, guarding it from demons. "No, the least we could do is nothing."

Clary shot him a hard look, but Max was giggling into his hands and he smiled up at Jace. "I wish Isabelle was coming over. She seemed a little bored yesterday."

"Of course she's bored," Jace said. "She can only work short hours since Luke is called away so often and hasn't been able to order any new books, and then she goes home to that _guy_…"

"That _guy _happens to be Simon, and Simon is one of my best friends," Clary growled. "I think it's very kind what he's doing, staying with Isabelle to keep her company and make sure none of those soldiers bother her."

Jace said something that sounded like _motives_ under his breath, but Max was speaking too loudly for Jace to be heard. "He's nice and all, but I don't know why he keeps waiting on my sister. I mean, he's a lord, isn't her? Shouldn't he be spending time with people like you, Clary?"

Clary smiled down on Max. "You're sister is very beautiful, and if there is one thing that pervades all class distinction, it's beauty. Besides, there are no lords or ladies here, we are all simply people. Now, see to that bread while I check the pork."

"Your mother is coming home this evening, isn't she?" asked Jace, and saw Clary's grimace.

Clary still hadn't quite forgiven her mother for changing their permanent residence to her home, and she felt slightly betrayed that Jace had sided with her. However, Jocelyn's home had proved to be the most useful place to hear good gossip. Almost once a day, someone arrived with a message for Jocelyn, and brought with them whispers of the outside world. Jocelyn had told Clary and Jace privately that she believed the Clave had been betrayed and someone from within was passing information along to Jonathan.

"If that were true, Mother, wouldn't Jonathan have made his attack?" Clary had asked skeptically. "Certainly, the first thing this spy would have passed along was the location to the entrance to the city?"

"All members of the Clave are sworn to secrecy; when you and Jace turn eighteen, you, too, will have to take the oath. But even if they could pass on the location of our entrances, it would do Jonathan little good. He can't send an army of demons through four or five holes in the ground."

It had been a reassuring thought, but Clary still believed there was something to it. "Yes, and I think she's got another informant with her."

"Excellent!" said Max, who was sniffing the warm interior of the loaf of bread. "I love when someone comes with news. It's almost like an adventure story."

"Max, you're not supposed to be eavesdropping," Clary scolded, but saw that Jace's eyes were aglow with a playful light. "I suppose I have Jace to thank for this."

"No, not at all," said Max solemnly, but his eye, too, we glowing.

"Have it your way," said Clary to Jace, "but you'll have Isabelle to deal with, and you and I both know that's a hell worse than even my father could imagine."

Jace raised his eyebrows, intrigued, and Max's face paled a little. "We'll just have to keep it our little secret, won't we," he murmured, and kissed an exposed section of Clary's neck. "You would never surrender me to such a horrible fate, would you?"

"You're a devil," said Clary, but she was smiling and Jace knew he had won. "A perfect gentlemen and lover, but a devil all the same."

* * *

"Is it always this quiet this early?" asked Alec, drawing his horse up close to Magnus's. "Where are the birds? Where are the foxes and wolves?"

Magnus was frowning, deep in thought, and when he turned to Alec, Alec saw a glimpse of the nine hundred year old warlock he kept so hidden. There were shadows and darkness, and Alec sometimes wondered what put them there. "Animals have always had better senses than you humans. If you're just noticing now that the animals have run off, I promise, the shadowhunters have noticed more."

"Demons?" Alec asked breathlessly. "Are you saying there are demons out there?"

Magnus regretted how coldly he had addressed Alec; after all, the boy had been a farmer all his life, and now was not the time to make him feel small. "Yes, Alec, there are demons afoot. Be on your best defense now."

Alec's face paled just a little; he was no coward, but nor was he a trained soldier. He'd been training with the rangers, but he was certainly no master of blades. "That last demon we fought…you said it wasn't anything too nasty? Will these be the same?"

"I wouldn't know, Alec," Magnus replied, feeling tense but trying not to show it. "Those last demons were just scouts Jonathan had probably set; if he suspects that they found something, and that's why they never returned, he could send something a bit more dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Alec asked, keeping his voice trained and casual, as if interested in what else might be coming. "Like a greater demon?"

Magnus's horse tossed its head and he glanced down, whispering to it in a language neither Alec nor the shadowhunters knew. "A great demon? I don't know about that, Alec. Greater demons aren't likely to just be roaming about, unchecked."

Alec dropped his voice. "I just assumed that since Jonathan was such a successful experiment he might try to make more people like himself. Imagine an army of men and women as powerful as he is."

"Nonsense," said Magnus swiftly. "You can't just dose a person with greater demon blood and expect a super soldier. I tried telling Jocelyn that wherever Valentine got that demon ichor, it wasn't a normal demon, but she's adamant it's just some greater demon."

"_Just_ some greater demon?" Alec laughed.

"Jonathan was born a shadowhunter," reasoned Magnus. "He had Angel blood in him, and that alone works as a defense against demon ichor. It would take some form of super concentrated demon blood to poison him and turn him so dark."

"Clary mentioned that she had happy memories of him," Alec mused. "Do you think it takes a long time for the demon blood to work?"

"It must," said Magnus softly. "Whatever Valentine dosed Jonathan with as a boy, it must have taken years to work into his system, poison his heart, and seep into his mind. That is good for us, at least, since it means it could take years for Jonathan to make another being such as himself."

"What do you think Valentine gave Jonathan?" asked Alec.

"I have no idea where to even begin. I've been hoping that we might find something in a book somewhere, but so far, nothing has come up." Magnus shook his head, lost for thought. "The sheer power of the being that Valentine must have summoned would have to be immense. I've considered one the Fallen…"

Alec stirred at the name and memories of stories he'd heard as a young man. "What are the Fallen, Magnus?"

"Fallen angels, the ones who betrayed heaven. If Valentine summoned one of them-somehow-I don't know how he'd get their blood. Some bargain, some deal, maybe, but even then, I don't know why the creature would give it to him without something in return."

"What could a fallen angel want with Jonathan?"

"That's what I've been working on," Magnus murmured, and then turned his eyes back on the path ahead. "I can't imagine what anything would want with a small, shadowhunter child, or with Valentine himself. It's a puzzle."

Alec paused contemplatively. "Do you think Jonathan is in contact with whatever did this to him?"

"Contact?"

"Do you think whatever gave its blood to Jonathan is interested in him? Do you think it's helping him summon his demons?" Alec was staring at Magnus now with worried eyes.

"I've never considered that," Magnus murmured and he glanced off into the city.

As the group continued through the empty streets of Alicante, Alec's thoughts turned away from demons and Jonathan, and rested instead on his sister and brother. Before he'd left on his tour, he'd visited Max and promised he'd return with a story, and he'd stopped by the house to reassure Isabelle that he was fine, and to leave her with half his salary. Simon had been there, he'd recalled, and Alec had felt a strange sense of relief that his sister wasn't alone. Even now, after months away from his fields and his parents, Alec was surprised by the changes that had slipped by his eyes unseen; he wondered if he took time to see himself in the mirror, would he see the young man who had grown up in the country.

His eyes turned to the city, the ruined buildings, the crumbling roofs, the torn cobble streets. Some part of Alec was worried that if he wasn't careful, his life could end like this: destruction. Alec vowed then that once this scare was over, he was going to spend less time with Magnus and more with his family. He wanted the life he'd had back.

_I'm no soldier, I'm just a farmer. _His eyes moved inexorably to Magnus. _Magnus must know that, the Angel knows what he sees in me. He's a warrior, a force to be reckoned with, brave. There must be someone better…_ Alec often had these thoughts, and usually, he would voice them to Magnus, who would then assure him how wrong he was. But of late, Magnus had been consumed by his work, and Alec had been uncertain around him. _What can a warlock want with a farmer? _

Overcome with a painful emotion, Alec turned to address Magnus, and just as he did, something heavy swiped into his side, cracking a rib and sending him toppling off his horse to the ground.

Chaos ensued. As Alec fell, the soldiers all around him drew out their weapons, turning about to find the attacker. Magnus, who hadn't seen who had been attacked, threw up his hand, blue flames flying out in a ring. The blue light was so bright that it blinded the men and women, but when it faded, they saw dark shapes reforming all around them. Demons, so many demons, swarming up to meet them, mouths full of teeth, brandishing claws, whipping tails back and forth.

The soldiers rose to meet the demons, slashing their blades. Magnus had been circled by a group of demons, and no matter which was he turned, they blocked his escape. On the ground, Alec had rolled over, clutching his side. He'd been hurt before, but the sharp pain of a broken rib was more than he was used to. His breathing was labored, his mind numb to the wreckage around him. In a daze, he looked down at his side and saw a huge bruise forming, and a disfiguring lump of a bone bent out of place. He touched it and a jolt of pain raced up his spine, doubling him over and cutting off his breath. He gasped and looked around through tearing eyes.

A few feet away, a body lay, a gaping hole marring the man's chest, his blood was pooling on the ground, steaming in the cold air, his eyes open and unseeing. To his left, a man and woman were struggling with a black thing spouting tentacles; as he watched, a tentacle wriggled out, wrapped around the woman's arm, and snapped it. A horse shot past Alec then, and he rolled out of way to dodge it. When he came to a stop, he was below another demon, this one scorpion looking. Its eyes swiveled around to him, and then its mouth opened wide, four tongues unfurling.

Thoughtlessly, as if he'd been doing it all his life, Alec felt his hand reach for the blade at his side. As the spiked tail came down toward Alec, his arm swung up, and the blade lodged firmly in the tail. The creature scurried back frantically, shaking the tail, but the blade had been lodged so deeply in the tail that it stuck, and black blood dribbled out. The demon snarled in pain and then lunged at Alec again. Alec, rolled away, withdrawing another blade, and then swiped forward for the face of the demon.

It cringed, but Alec had struck true, and it was blinded. Pressing his advantage, Alec curled his fingers around the handle of the knife and drove it into the demon's neck. Ichor spurted out, and Alec felt it spray his hand like acid. There was a terrible burning in his arm, but he didn't remove the blade, just kept pushing it deeper in. The demon thrashed, but Alec had won, and the thing crashed to the ground, jerking, but dead.

Alec tugged the blade out and laid back on the ground, and stared at his arm in shock. The black acid had eaten away his skin, and bright pink flesh stung in the cold air. Small flecks were still on his arm, and Alec was horrified to see that it was burning through the flesh and to his bone. His head spun with the pain, but he didn't have time to think: before his eyes, Magnus was being overpowered by three large demons.

"Magnus!" Alec cried, and struggled up to his feet, wielding the blade.

Magnus was fending off a particularly ugly demon, and it was pushing him farther and farther away. He knew that the demons recognized him for a warlock, and they must have known how powerful he was. They were trying to push him away from the others, separate him. If they could overpower him, if the demons could kill him, the others would be mostly helpless. Magnus pressed back, but one of the demons, a dog with three heads, leapt at him, mouth agape. It hit Magnus with the force of a carthorse and he stumbled.

The hell hound landed to his side, teeth bared; it lifted its paw, preparing to strike. Magnus moved to cast a spell, but something dark rushed past him and hit the hound. The two rolled away, and he saw the flash of a blade and heard the death cry of a demon. Magnus levered himself onto his feet and faced the other two. Something that looked like a huge spider came crawling toward him and Magnus aimed a particularly powerful bolt of fire at it. His aim was true, and the spider demon exploded in a burst of blue flame and shadow. The final demon sensed it was at a loss, and made a desperate bid for freedom, but Magnus caught the thing with a glowing dagger, and it too collapsed.

Around him, Magnus saw the residual effects of the demon attack. Three of their number were dead, one a shadowhunter, one a woman he knew had a child, the other a young man. The smell of blood hung in the air, but it was mingling with the stench of demon blood, and he turned away. A horse lay dead at his feet, its side torn open. Magnus nudged it, and was about to set fire to the body before it attracted more attention when he noticed with horror that it belonged to Alec.

"Alec!" Magnus said sharply. "Alec, where are you?"

At first, there was no answer, and Magnus felt panic rising, but then a strangled groan: "Magnus?"

Magnus snapped around and saw the crumpled figure of Alec, lying beside the still dying hell hound. He rushed over, aiming a bolt of fire at the hound that went up in flames. Alec was lying on his side in a small pool of blood, panting. Falling to his knees, Magnus rolled Alec over, fearing what he might find. Alec was sporting an ugly cut on his cheek, an acid burn that was still eating away the bone on his arm, a broken rib, and an oozing gash across his chest.

It was the gash that worried Magnus, because he could tell just looking at it, that it was already poisoning his blood. "Alec, Alec can you hear me?"

"Magnus," he croaked. "Are they…gone? Are the demons gone?"

"Yes," Magnus said softly, taking his pulse. "Yes, they're gone. You were brilliant, Alec, you saved my life."

"I'm dying," Alec said, oddly calm. "That demon caught me."

Magnus brushed the hair off Alec's face. "You saved my life; now, I'm going to save yours."

* * *

"It's late," Clary murmured, her eyes unmoving from the window. "Why is it so late?"

"Clary, come and eat," Jocelyn called. She came to join her daughter at the window, and carefully, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Magnus and Alec are probably being debriefed after their tour."

Clary shook her head, "They said they would be here."

Jocelyn led Clary back into the kitchen where Jace, Max, and a tired Luke, were sitting around the table, eyeing the meal. Clary, who hadn't seen Luke in weeks, smiled wearily up at him, and his smile was enough to calm her frantic heart. Jace, though, could tell Clary was worried, and he nodded her over.

"What's wrong?"

Clary turned her face back to the door. "Alec and Magnus are late, Jace, and they were out on one of the tours today."

Jace pressed his lips together. "Should we wait for Alec and Magnus? They won't thank us if we start before them."

Luke considered Jace and Clary. "Magnus does have news, Jocelyn, and you know how easily offended he is."

Jocelyn looked ready to argue, but she met Luke's eyes, and Clary was surprised to see a look of deep fondness pass over her face. "Tell us, Luke, what news has there been with the Downworlders?"

Luke shrugged, and the weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders. "They are unhappy with the idea of war, and there is muttering that Jonathan might offer them something better. Of course never too loud; if the Clave catches wind of anything like that, they'd be killed."

Clary frowned. "The Clave can't do that."

"They will," said Luke. "The risk is too great to the thousands that live here. Some are worried that demons will find us and slaughter us. The rumor of Jonathan's blood has leaked somehow from the Clave."

"The Clave knows Jonathan is part demon?" Jace gasped, and his eyes roved to Clary.

"They know, and someone let the secret out," Luke said miserably. "They call him the Demon King. They say he is friend of theirs, that they obey him like a dog its master."

"They're scared is all," Jocelyn said, but even she looked worried.

Luke gave her a long look. "You and I both know that gossip can turn a war more effectively than an army."

"The Clave isn't doing too much to help," Luke muttered. "They think silence is the best answer, quiet and strong, that's their solution."

"It's all they can do right now," was all Jocelyn said, but even she sounded dismal. "If they confirm the rumor, panic ensues, if they deny it-"

At that moment, the front door crashed open. Jocelyn and Luke jumped up, Jace moved before Clary, and Clary swept Max up into her arms. A snarl tore from Luke's mouth just as a towering, lumbering figure moved into view. At first no one knew what they were looking at, so odd was the shape, but after a moment of tense silence, they recognized Magnus's hair and Alec's pale face.

"Get the food off the table!" Magnus ordered.

It took only a second for Clary to snatch up the plates before her and stack them on the counter. Magnus lowered Alec's limp body down onto the table, and immediately began digging through Jocelyn's kitchen for rags. Clary felt her stomach drop out when she saw the state Alec was in, and she heard Max's cry.

"Get the boy out," Jocelyn said tersely, pointing Clary up the stairs.

Clary didn't need telling twice. She turned and fled, Max banging his fists against her helplessly. "Alec! Don't take me away! _Don't take me away_!"

"I'm putting you to bed, Max," was all Clary said, the image of Alec's body burned into her mind. She took Max to his bedroom and sat him on the bed; he screamed and kicked his feet and banged his fists, and tried to escape Clary by running for the door. It was pointless, though; Clary's reflexes were too honed, and in the end, Clary wrapped both her arms around Max as he dissolved into frustrated tears. She leaned back on the bed, rocking Max. "I'm sorry, Max, I'm so sorry. Magnus is going to fix him, Magnus is going to fix everything." Max sniffled and ducked his head

Downstairs, Magus had set water to boil and herbs and was ordering the others about. He set to work, cleaning out the injuries, but his eyes kept moving to the gash that was now leaking yellow pus. He could smell dead flesh. He saw the shallow breaths and the pale skin. Magnus panicked a little more.

"Luke, you were a shadowhunter once, get over here," Magnus snapped. Jace drew a little nearer, but Magnus shot him a furious look. "Jace, you're a _boy_, I need an actual shadowhunter. Luke, I need to clean this wound."

Luke gave Jace's shoulder a tight squeeze and drew up to join Magnus. He examined the gash and frowned. "It's not going to be easy. If Alec were a shadowhunter, this wouldn't be horrible, but he's human. It's already in his blood."

"I'm getting it out," was Magnus's response. "I'm going to need your help, though. It might hurt him, and if he wakes up, I'll need you to hold him down." Luke bit his lip but nodded in agreement. Magnus's eyes went to Jocelyn and Jace. "Keep boiling the water and herbs; once I get the poison out, I'll need to clean the wound. Soak the bandages as well."

Jace had never seen a warlock heal a person before, and was curious enough to watch. Magnus muttered a few words in a language he didn't know, and his hands began to glow, first blue, then white. He placed them over Alec's open wound, and closed his eyes. Slowly, his hands moved, tracing veins as he tracked down the poison. Then, after a minute where his face seemed dark, he relaxed and began to curl his fingers, as if drawing on water. After five minutes, Jace was shocked to see that the open wound began to bubble with black blood. The blood dribbled off Alec's side and pooled on the floor where is sizzled and gave off a foul odor. Jace was just thinking that it was lucky Alec was unconscious when his eyes fluttered and her groaned in pain.

"Luke…" Magnus murmured, not taking his focus from the wound.

Luke began to apply a gentle pressure to Alec as he came awake. When his eyes finally opened, there was a second of confusion, but this almost at once clouded over with intense pain. He started to wither on the table, moaning, and the longer Magnus drew on his blood, the faster his groans came until he was screaming. Jace cringed, and prayed to the Angel that Max was asleep and didn't have to hear his brother's screams. Alec arched his back off the table, completely unaware of where he was or who was with him, but Luke was much stronger than even a healthy, fit man, and he pressed Alec down as Magnus continued.

It went on for at least ten minutes before Magnus gave a cry of relief and fell back, breathing deep. Alec, lying on the table, was covered in sweat, and whining under his breath. Magnus drew a shuddering breath. "Get…get the rags."

Jace was stunned when Jocelyn suddenly pushed him forward, thrusting rags into his hands. He stumbled forward, holding them out to Magnus who snatched them up and began to dab at the open wound. Jace thought he was a man possessed, the way he dabbed here and there, scrubbing carefully, picking over the smarting flesh. Alec's face rolled to Jace and he was shocked by how pale he was.

"It Alec going to be okay?" Jace asked hoarsely.

Magnus didn't seem to be in the mood to answer, so he turned to face Luke, who was hovering by Alec, waiting for more orders. "The poison is gone, but he's lost much blood, not to mention the array of scrapes and bruises he's accumulated. I dare say Alec will be out of action for a while."

"Scrapes and bruises?" asked Jace sardonically, eyeing the broken rib. "Then again, I suppose for a man who can become a dog, a broken bone is par for the course."

Luke raised an eyebrow, not sure if Jace was unaware of the jib, or if he was just in shock over the state of his friend. "A broken rib is the least of his worries if he bleeds out. Why don't you get a few more bandages?"

Jace turned and found Jocelyn already had them. She gave him a swift, searching look. "How about you see how Max is, Jace? You're certainly no healer, you're place isn't here." Jace looked ready to argue, not wanting to be sent away when his friend was in such a way, but Jocelyn's eyes turned hard. "Go, Jace."

Jace turned and followed Clary back up the stairs. When he arrived at Max's room, he found Clary curled up with a sleeping Max. She looked worn and anxious. "How is he? Is he alive?" Her voice was even and empty, reminiscent of the Clary who had lived at her father's court.

"Magnus drew the poison out, but now he's trying to clean and wrap the wound. It's pretty bad."

"He'll live?" was all Clary said.

"It seems that way, though how long it'll take him to recover, I can't say."

Clary shifted Max and sat up. "I think Alec has disillusioned Max."

Jace turned away, the image of Alec's blood mingled with ichor dripping onto the kitchen floor. "I do not think this war is going to go the way we planned."


	15. Open War

**Sorry this is out so late, I've been working a lot of extra hours!**

Open War

News of the attack on Alec and Magnus's tour spread like wildfire through all divisions of the city. One of the dead had been a human woman who had children. Another, a shadowhunter man who had been struck down. And, Magnus, who had been a prominent figure in the Downworlder community. There was bitter muttering that this was only the start, that more demons were on the way, and that no one was safe. The only thing that seemed to spread faster was than the gossip was fear, and it plagued every living thing in the hidden city.

After the day of the attack, ceremonies were held for the lost. The first was the human woman, and Clary, feeling oddly responsible, was convinced Jace to escort her. They found the ceremony being held in the second circle of the city, in a large graveyard, with many other attendants. Clary and Jace had both drawn their hoods and covered their faces, not wanting to be recognized. Slow burial music was played, and a small family of one man and three children followed a coffin that was buried in the earth. Clary was struck by how small the children were, and how they wept openly. As a shadowhunter, she had been taught from a very young age not to cry, to be brave in the face of fear, to be stoic when the world collapsed around her. Watching those children cry made her wonder what life might have been like had she been human.

She was also struck by the color of mourning: black. Shadowhunters wore white in the presence of death; here she was drowning in a color of black. During the service, she turned to Jace and plucked his cloak. "I've never seen such despair."

Jace frowned and nodded. "Humans have different customs, but some I will never understand. When I was a boy, a prominent farmer in my father's dukedom lost his firstborn son. My family went in a show of respect for their loss." Jace looked far away, confused. "My mother practically forced me into a set of black pants and shirt. I thought she'd gone mad."

"I meant the tears," Clary murmured, eyeing a woman next to her with tears dribbling down her cheek. "They cry so much."

"It's what they know," Jace agreed, but then fell silent as the husband of the woman spoke.

After the ceremony, Clary was silent and moody, and she went straight to their room when she was home. Jace didn't push her, but in the evening, he found her lying on their bed, staring up at the ceiling with dry eyes. When he joined her, she smiled faintly at him, but it didn't reach her eyes, and he worried ever so slightly.

The day after, the ceremony for the dead shadowhunter was held. Clary and Jace were both more comfortable dressed in mourning clothing. Clary had borrowed a white dress from her mother, and Jace felt dreadful as he watched her, thinking Clary was absolutely stunning in white, like an angel. Through the entire ceremony and then the burning on the pyre, his eyes lingered on her. However, when Clary turned to face him, her eyes were empty and dull. He clasped her hand in his and kissed the fingers.

Clary was feeling sick with the death, and again, that pang of responsibility came to her. She knew that it wasn't her fault demons had killed the man. She knew Jonathan wasn't coming only for her. But she wondered how many people might die in the future when Jonathan did come for her. As always, her fear was for Jace, and she was terrified that something horrible might happen to him when her back was turned. A fierce urge to protect him came over her, and that evening, she demanded Jace stay with her at all times. He knew she was scared, but he wasn't sure what of.

What seemed to be the final straw for Clary was the day they visited Alec at Magnus's. Jace, Clary, Max, and Isabelle arrived at Magnus's house early in the morning. Magnus seemed irritable and from the shadows under his eyes, they guessed he hadn't been sleeping much. When Magnus showed them to the room where Alec was resting, they were shocked to find the state he was in.

Clary and Jace, who were used to swift healing, had never suspected that it could take so long for a person to heal. Alec was asleep, and from the look of it, had been for a while. His broken bones were set, but they were not healed. The gash on his chest was in need of constant cleaning, and though the poison had been drained, it still leaked a foul smelling mixture of blood and puss. His skin was unnaturally pale and when he breathed, his chest barely rose.

"What's wrong with him?" Clary demanded on Magnus. "I thought you had healed him? I thought he'd be up and about by now."

Magnus practically growled. "He's _human_, Clary. I can only do so much with weak blood! He'll take more time than you to fix up."

"He looks dead," she said bitterly, but a look of terror crossed Max's face, and she regretted it instantly. "I mean, I'm sure you're going to make him better, but it'll just take time I suppose."

Isabelle sank onto the bed and gently prodded Alec's side. His eyes fluttered tiredly and he opened them slowly. When Alec saw Isabelle, tears swam up into her eyes and she threw her arms around him. "Alec! I was _so_ worried!"

Alec coughed. "I'm…alright," he managed in a hoarse whisper.

"You scared me senseless, Alec," Isabelle said seriously. "When I head you'd been attacked by demons…I thought it would just be me and Max." Her eyes fell and a single tear slunk down her cheek.

His hand reached out and pressed hers. "I wouldn't leave you, Izzy."

Isabelle kissed his cheek gently and then turned her eyes on Magnus. "Thank you so much, Magnus. He would have died without you."

Magnus didn't smile, but he looked a little more gratified. "He saved my life, Isabelle; it was certainly the least I could do. Besides, I've found myself very fond of your brother."

"How long will it take before he gets better?" Max asked, crawling onto the bed.

"A week or so more," Magnus shrugged. "His bones set slowly, and the blood poisoning is still working out of his system. Even after, Alec might be weak for a time, and he's in no shape to go back out on a tour."

"Well, thank the Angel for it!" Isabelle said sharply. "No more fighting for you, Alec. You'll just have to stay here in the city, helping me with Luke's bookstore, and combing the library for information on demons." She smiled at him and he grinned up slowly.

"I can mange that," he said weakly, and then his eyes found Magnus. "If you still need my help…?"

"We've had this conversation before, Alec," sighed Magnus tiredly. "_Of course_ I want your help, and you're still more than welcome to stay here."

"Alec should live at home," said Isabelle worriedly. "Can't he come and stay with us?"

"Perhaps you can come and stay with him?" offered Magnus lightly, and Isabelle's eyes widened in surprise. "I've more than enough room here for a few more wayward children. Besides, Clary and Jace live next door now, and there's plenty gossip to hear."

Isabelle nodded her head vigorously. "I'll talk to Luke and see if he still needs me in the book shop; I'm sure he won't mind. As long as you've got room, mind. I won't have you giving us rooms and food and such when you can't manage it."

Magnus waved a hand as her. "You're being ridiculous."

Clary, though pleased Isabelle was moving in next door, couldn't take her eyes off Alec. He was so diminished that just the sight of his wound turned Clary's stomach, and she wanted to turn and run. Her hand snapped around Jace's in a panic. Here was the culmination of her greatest fears: a friend had been hurt by her brother. This, surely, was her fault?

_Your brother's doing, _your _brother, mind. He'll come after you, and you know it. And when he comes, what then? Will you let Isabelle step in his path? Or, the Angel forbid, Jace? This is upon your shoulders, Clary._

"Jace, can we leave soon? I…I don't feel well." Clary turned away from the small family gathered on the bed, but met Magnus's eyes and cringed. "Jace?"

Jace lingered a moment to say farewell to Alec and promise to visit again soon, but then gently wrapped an arm about Clary's shoulders and led her away. "Are you sick?" Jace had a crazy thought, a terrifying and exhilarating moment, when he thought Clary might be pregnant. "Do you need to lie down?"

"I can't be there…I can't see Alec like that," said Clary, completely unaware of the direction Jace's mind had traveled. She saw his face relax, but it meant nothing to her. "What happened to him was because of Jonathan; what happened to all those people was because of Jonathan. He's _my brother_!"

"You can't really think that?" Jace asked, leading her swiftly to Jocelyn's house and into the kitchen. "Jonathan might be your brother, but you can't think that it has anything to do with you."

"He'll come for me, Jace," Clary whispered, and her eyes narrowed on Jace. "He'll come and cut down anyone in his way. Even you."

Jace had been heating up ale, hoping to coax Clary into a calm state. At her words, though, he straightened up and squared his shoulders. "I can defend myself against your brother."

"He'll want revenge for everything," she whispered. "If he ever finds us, he'll want revenge because you married me. I don't want him to hurt you."

"Clary, hear me," said Jace, and he turned to face her. "I do not fear Jonathan, and if ever he manages to reach this city, I will not let him at you. You don't need to fear him."

Jace's words fell on deaf ears, though. Clary was already thinking to herself of the boy she knew. His blade was matchless, his speed and agility peerless, his viciousness unrivaled. Jonathan had been bred a soldier, and there was no one alive in this world who could match him. Clary had been wondering lately what was her gift? Jonathan was a warrior, but what did she get? She could make runes, but did that matter?

_Anything is a weapon,_ her thoughts whispered. _Anything can be used as a defense…or a protection. _Her eyes landed on Jace, and she smiled brilliantly. "What if I could protect you?"

Jace raised an eyebrow and brought a mug of mulled ale to Clary. "I don't need you to protect me, Clary. I just need you to be with me."

"I could make a rune!" said Clary, her mind racing. "I could make a rune that could bind you to me, tie our lives together. That way, if Jonathan ever came, he couldn't hurt you without hurting me."

Jace swallowed and felt oddly uncomfortable. "Clary, that would have to be a _very _powerful, very _binding _rune-"

"Jonathan might want to hurt me, true," Clary said, undaunted. "But he'd never want me dead. Even in his worst fits, he'd never want me dead. Jonathan won't kill you if it means that I'll die with you."

"Wouldn't there be repercussions from such a binding?" Jace hedged. "To tie two lives together physically would be dangerous. Wouldn't be at risk of sharing…to much?"

"Too much?" Clary asked swiftly. "What do you mean?"

"There are things, Clary," Jace began awkwardly. "Things in both our pasts that is private. You and I both have memories and pains and fears that are ours alone. You must see that binding ourselves like that would open doors between our minds that couldn't be closed."

"If there are things you don't want me to see-"

"It's not that," said Jace quickly. "It's just that once those doors are open, they could not be closed again. You must have secrets that you haven't shared with me, and if you made this rune, I'd have them all."

Clary pressed her lips together, considering…True, her past was fraught with dark memories, shame, humiliation, and guilt. She wondered how Jace would handle her worst memories with Jonathan; she had spent years in denial, making excuses for the nightmares he visited on her. Jace was certainly no coward, but that didn't mean he was ready to bear the weight of her pain. And was she ready to bear his? Jace's life had been no fairy tale; a distant father, a lonely mother, a deep-seated hatred of her own father, Valentine. He had been a lonely boy, a loneliness to rival her own.

"I don't want to lose you," Clary finally said bitterly. "I'm afraid Jonathan will hurt you, and I don't want to live in a world without you."

Jace took Clary's hands in his and pulled her into a long kiss. She lingered in his arms, refusing to leave the circle of his protective grasp. "I'm not going to lose you. Not even Jonathan can take you from me."

"I won't make the rune," said Clary decidedly. "But, swear to me, swear to me on the Angel, Jace, that if there ever comes a time when Jonathan threatens your life directly, that you'll me intervene. Swear you'll let me mark you."

Faintly, Jace wondered what might be the consequences of his agreeing to it, what might he give up to Clary if she ever did mark him, but he knew that she wouldn't let him go if he refused. Clary had lived her life in terror of her brother, and she was grown accustomed to losing the things she loved; she didn't want to lose Jace. "I swear on the Angel, Clary, that if Jonathan is moments away from killing me, I'll let you mark me with a rune that will bind me to you." When he felt Clary relax against him, he chuckled and added, "But let's hope it never comes to that."

* * *

A few days later, Jocelyn came home looking tired, but she called Clary and Jace to her sharply. "Luke is coming over this evening," she began, collapsing in a chair at the table. "Maia and Magnus, too. Start dinner for six; I'm going to be in my study."

Clary flushed at being ordered by her mother so shortly. "What's the occasion?"

Jocelyn didn't catch the note of annoyance in Clary's voice. "Open war."

Clary and Jace glanced between each other, a leaf of fear unfurling in their chest. "The Clave has decided to go to war against Jonathan?"

"That's what we decided on today," Jocelyn said simply. "Luke is even now going to his people to convince them to add their numbers. If all goes well, by next week, contingents of soldiers are going to leave the city and begin invading nearby cities in Idris."

"We're calling Jonathan out?" Clary gasped. "Has the Clave gone mad? He'll be furious!"

"That is our plan, Clarissa," Jocelyn practically growled. "Now will you _please _prepare a meal for our guests? If the Clave wants to move, we have to be one step ahead, don't we? For that, we must have news, and to get news, we must have spies. Magnus hears everything there is to hear, and Luke is the head of the werewolf pack. There is no one else we'd rather have."

"Go rest," Jace said before Clary worked up a sharp response. "We'll get dinner ready."

Jocelyn relaxed a little, grateful again that she and Jace had at least come to an understanding. "Good enough then. Hopefully, by the night's end we'll know enough to plan our own counter attack."

"Counter attack?" Clary asked softly.

"Yes, Clary," sighed her mother. "Haven't I said? The Clave has been infiltrated by spies. Even now they will be reporting to Jonathan. We must plan a counter attack, something that will end Jonathan's madness when the Clave fails."

Clary blinked. "And what is that?"

"We don't know yet, do we?" Jocelyn said, exasperated. "Clary, please, just prepare the meal and wait until Luke and Magnus arrive. They will have the wisdom we seek."

Clary and Jace turned to the kitchen and set about making a quick meal. It wasn't anything special, not with the time they had, just left over meat and warmed bread with vegetables. Clary was setting the table as she heard the door swing open on its own accord and heavy footsteps come toward them. She looked up just as Luke entered the kitchen, followed by a corpse-looking Maia.

"Luke!" Clary exclaimed, and she rushed over to the hug the man who had been her guard dog all her life. "You look horrible, has it been that bad with the Clave?"

Luke grumbled something under his breath, and carefully put Clary to his side. "I wish that the Clave just settled their disputes like a wolf pack. Two of us meet for a fight, and the winner gets what they want."

"I suppose you'd tear Malachi's throat out?" Clary laughed.

"Ha!" Luke grunted. "Leave me out of it; your mother is more than capable of handling that man. You should hear the things she's been saying to him lately. I think he wants to kick her out of the Clave."

Clary raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Well, Jocelyn is used to being heard. She was queen, after all. That must personality can go to anyone's head."

"Whatever the reason, I'm grateful for it," said Luke and looked past Clary to Jace. He offered the boy one of his tired, friendly smiles. "Good to see you again, Jace; you're looking well."

Jace shrugged. "I'm certainly better than you, but I've been to visit Alec, and I can't say I'm pleased with it."

"It's the way of war," Luke said soberly. "Hopefully, though, we will be able to assuage some of the more alarming consequences tonight. Has Magnus come yet?"

"He's probably still with Alec," Jace mused. "He has certainly taken to him."

"Well, Alec is handsome and Magnus exotic. I'm sure the two are rather attracted to each other. You should hear what half the women around here say about Magnus-including a few of the Clave, mind!"

Jace laughed. "I can only imagine. Clary," he said, turning to her then, "why don't you get your mother? The sooner we finish this dinner, the soon we can get on to planning our war."

Clary nodded and found her mother seated at her desk, asleep on a pile of maps. She found herself trapped in a memory of her childhood, when she'd rush into her parents' room early in the morning and find them tucked in blankets and sleep. A small part of her felt for her mother who seemed so drained by the recent developments. However, there was news to hear and lives to save…

"Mother, Luke is here, and we'd like to start dinner soon," she said softly, prodding her mother's arm. "Mother, wake up."

"Clary, please, just another moment…" she mumbled, but then her eyes stirred. "Luke is here?"

"I just said that," Clary repeated, leaning on the desk in a bored way. "He's downstairs, waiting for you."

"And has he been waiting long?" she asked sleepily.

"Ten minute…why does it matter?" Clary demanded, feeling her sleep-mother was being ridiculous.

"I never was there to teach you the ways of life, Clary," Jocelyn said, sitting up and shaking herself. "The longer a man waits for you, the longer you can push him."

Clary felt a frown on her face. "Push him?"

Jocelyn smiled a coy little grin, like the ones on the faces of every woman in her father's court. "How much nonsense a man will take from you. Certainly you must have realized this being raised in the court?"

Clary felt her mouth hanging open. "You're just teasing Luke on?"

Jocelyn rolled her eyes, unimpressed with Clary's outburst. "He's a handsome enough man, and I am tired of being alone. Besides, I thought you would be pleased?"

_Luke's not your friend, he's _my _friend_."Can we please go to dinner?" she asked stiffly. "I'm hungry, and I think Luke and Maia are about to collapse from exhaustion."

Jocelyn rose up gracefully and brushed the creases out of her shirt and pants before leaving with Clary in her wake. As they entered the kitchen, Jace wondered what it might have been like if Jocelyn had stayed at court. He could see it now, Jocelyn going before Clary with her chin raised and her eyes lifted defiantly; Clary followed her, head bowed in obedience of her mother's will. Even now, Jocelyn came before her daughter like a queen and Clary the duchess she was.

"Jocelyn," said Luke, rising up and then tipping her a bow. "You're looking lovely as ever; dinner smells wonderful, too."

Clary bit back a sharp reply that _she _had made dinner as her mother smiled serenely. "Is Magnus here yet, or are we going to start the meal without him?"

"You'll be starting nothing without me," said a soft voice from the hall, and Magnus entered, eyes glowing and a face alight with cunning. "Especially since I know a thing or two about the plans for invasion."

"Invasion already?" asked Jace, though he didn't sound all that worried; on the contrary, he sounded excited.

"Dinner first," Magnus answered, looking toward the counter top where bread was cooling. "I haven't had much time on my hands since I started looking after Alec. Isabelle and Max are a help, but I'm the only one who knows how to dress the wound…" Clary thought Magnus sounded more tired than she'd ever heard him. "Regardless, I'm starving."

They sat down to eat, and the conversation stayed safely away from the topic of war. Luke seemed to have endless compliments for Jocelyn, and she preened a little under Luke's gaze. Dinner would have been a horrible affair for Clary had Maia not been there to draw her attention.

"So, Mrs. Herondale, how has life been treating you? Isabelle tells me you're wonderful with Max; thinking maternally?" Maia lifted her eyebrows teasingly and Clary blushed furiously.

"I'll only be bringing a Herondale into this world when I want the house demolished," Clary snorted.

"Don't be such a dramatist," said Jace. "I was a perfectly manageable young boy. In fact, I dare say that my father's entire dukedom celebrated the day I was born."

"Let me reiterate," Clary began, but Maia was laughing so much that Clary dissolved into a fit of giggles with her. Jace looked between them, feigning hurt. "I don't think I can manage two Herondale egos."

"Clarissa, you're such a wonderful woman," Jace cooed. "I think you perfectly capable of two Herondales."

"Two?" said Luke sharply, looking up and across at them. "Something to share with the rest of us?"

"No," Clary said in an offhand way. "Jace was just speculating over the future."

"Let's keep it that way, shall we?" asked Luke. "You're still little Clary to me, and I don't think I can imagine you with a child."

"One day," Clary smiled brilliantly to her mother's sour looking face.

"Speaking of the future, though," Magnus cut in. "We have a war to plan, and not nearly as much time as we think."

"How bad is it?" asked Jace after a pause.

Magnus considered this, swirling his drink around the glass. "The Clave wants to start next week sending out large contingents of soldiers into Idris. They're not planning on killing anyone, just claiming cities on the boarders of the country. They want to draw out Jonathan."

"Why would they _want_ to bring Jonathan out of his castle?" Clary asked in shock. "Leave him be there. Let him rot!"

Magnus shook his head. "They want him coming forward, they want to trick him into an attack."

"What?" Jocelyn lifted her head. "I've heard nothing of this. I thought we were going to push farther and farther into Idris to take back the country."

"Yes," Magnus sighed. "Well, you're not supposed to know much about it, are you? It was a small plan, worked on by the Inquisitor and a few other key members, Luke included." Here, his eyes moved to Luke apologetically. "I'm supposed to be proposing this new plan to the warlock community."

"A new plan?" mused Jace. "The Clave is keeping secrets from the shadowhunters?"

"Well, they, like Jocelyn, believe there is an information leak within out ranks. A separate plan had been made, one that will lead us to a swift victory over Jonathan's forces." Magnus took a sip of his drink. "We'll call Jonathan out by invading his cities, and response should be swift. Our hope is that he will send his armies, hundreds, thousands, of his demons after us. We'll lead them to the city, and, once they're within the bounds of Alicante, the demon towers will be activated, locking them inside the city."

Jace grinned like a razor. "Trapped in a city, thousands of shadowhunters below them?"

"A perfect trap," agreed Magnus, "but it gets better. Once the demon towers are activated, the other warlocks and I are going to perform a massive spell, White Flame, and it should destroy the majority of lesser demons. Werewolves will be there to attack once the spell is cast, hopefully vampires too. The shadowhunters and humans will join in as well. With any luck, we'll rid this world of most of Jonathan's army."

Jace's hands were already itching for a weapon. "Won't Jonathan be able to summon more?"

Magnus nodded contemplatively. "Yes, well, the Clave doesn't know how best to stop Jonathan, what with his demon blood. They're hoping he'll be so displaced after the attack that they'll be able to overcome him before he summons more."

"It won't work, of course," said Luke pointlessly. "Jonathan won't be lost, he won't even be confused. He's a Morgenstern, after all; it's always upwards and onwards for him. We need a plan of attack when the Clave fails."

"We have one," said murmured Magnus. "At least, I think we do." Magnus's eyes roved from Luke and Jocelyn over to Jace and Clary. Clary, who had known Magnus longest, could see in his eyes a very confused emotion. "I think we should send a small contingent back to Idris to sneak into the castle directly after the attack. I think that small group will be able to attack Jonathan while he's at his weakest."

Clary blinked slowly. "I know the castle well."

"Clary, no," said Luke at once, but Clary wasn't paying attention.

"Of all the people who could get closest to Jonathan, it must be me, right? I mean, he wants me back. I'm sure if anyone could get in a few words with him, it'll be me."

"You're not going alone," warned Jace to Luke's outraged glare. "If you go back to Idris, I'm going with you. I'm not letting you face Jonathan alone."

"You're not going!" Luke cried, slamming a fist down. "I'm not going to let Clary go back to the monster who wants her dead."

"He doesn't want me dead," she answered swiftly.

"Then worse," Luke sniffed. "Magnus, why would you put this idea in her head? Clary's place is here, learning the art of shadowhunting and building a home with Jace."

"I want to help!" Clary said furiously. "I'm tired of having to sit aside, waiting for Jonathan to come after me. Why can't I go forward against him? I have more right than anybody else!"

"Clary, you're a little girl-"

"I'm not little!"

Luke shook his head. "You're not even an adult shadowhunter yet; they'll be no talk of you doing anything in this war until you're eighteen."

"I find I must agree with Luke, Clarissa," Jocelyn said softly. "You're still my daughter, still in my care, and I don't want you risking your life for nothing. The Clave is keeping too close an eye on you as it is, and we both know it's best for you to stay under my care."

"I'm in Jace's care," Clary hissed. "If he says we're going, we'll go."

"I think Jace knows better than to cross me," warned Jocelyn and her eyes went to Jace. "I won't have this talk of you running off to your death, not so long as I draw breath. I swear on the Angel, Clary, Jace, if I have to tie you two to your bed, I will."

Clary's teeth were bared in a snarl, but Jace took her hand in his warningly. "We'll certainly not be running off soon," he said, but when he glanced over to Magnus, there was something in his eyes, a promise to speak later. "We'll stay right here at the heart of things."


	16. A City of Discontent

A City of Discontent 

_Are those people following me? _Simon wondered as he passed down a lane towards the Lightwoods' empty house. _I swear that man in the dark blue cloak was at the bakery when I passed…no, you're being insane, just get the house and grab the clothes. _

Simon had originally escorted Isabelle to Magnus's house when they got word of Alec's state. Since then, he had been paying a visit every other day, mostly to see that Isabelle was well and that Alec was recovering. Always the gentlemen, Simon had offered Alec a number of cures he'd learned as a young boy from his tutors and any of his few possessions that might make his confinement more bearable; he offered Isabelle his company and his ear. Alec had stuttered his thanks, unaccustomed to the friendship of a lord, and Isabelle had been flattered that he'd come at all, assuring him she needed nothing. On his last visit, though, Isabelle had asked a small favor: that Simon return to her old home and bring her what spare clothes she had left for herself and Max.

Now, Simon was on his way to her house, muttering under his breath that he was being followed by very shady looking folks. He glanced up at the lights about him and saw that they were beginning to glow more fiercely, and he knew that night was coming in, and soon, he would be arrested for being out at all. Adding that to the men following him, and Simon was growing severely nervous.

Up ahead, he finally glimpsed the house and hurried forward. Behind him, Simon swore he could hear the swish of the cloaks, but he put it from his mind and searched his pockets frantically for the key. The house loomed up and Simon didn't want to stop at the door for even for a moment, not with those men behind him. His fingers closed on the key and he tore it out of his pocket, jamming it into the door and turning the knob. Simon slammed the door behind him, heart pounding, and leaned back against the door with his eyes closed.

_So, maybe they were following me, _thought Simon, rubbing his forehead and eyes tiredly. Carefully, Simon reached into his cloak and fingered the dagger on his belt; he knew how to use it, had been trained as a young boy how to fight, but had never been very good at it. Simon had suffered enough humiliation at the hands of his peers for being fonder of books than blades, and had a deep dislike of Jace, who was incredibly gifted. _You know how to use the blade, you know how to fight; if it comes to it, just draw the dagger and thrust at them. It will probably scare them away._

Regardless of how prepared he was to fight, Simon didn't have time to waste, not by the look of the flickering lights outside. Simon went into the room Isabelle had made home and carefully picked through it. He felt a blush rise up his cheeks as he saw Isabelle's bed clothes tossed over a chair, the work dresses tossed about, and a few pairs of leggings hanging out of chest. Brought up a proper ward of the court, Simon hadn't had much experience with women, not on such a personal level, anyway. Quickly, he gathered up some clothes and tossed them into a small rucksack, and then went to Max's room. His was barer since he'd been with Jace and Clary for the last few weeks. Like Isabelle, Simon gathered up some clothing for the boy and added it to the sack. He fleetingly considered some books in Max's room that looked like favorites of his, but weighed the books and thought another trip when he had more time.

Simon paused before the door and listened, fingering the knife on his belt. He wasn't going to have much time to get back to Magnus's house before a contingent of soldiers began their sweep of the street, and a scuffle now would guarantee that he was late. One more breath and Simon was ready to face whatever might be outside the door. He gripped the knob tightly, feeling sweat beneath his palm, and then threw of the door open.

Nothing but the street greeted him.

_You're paranoid, Lord Lewis,_ he teased himself gently, and then hurried out in the city.

Many of the houses about had closed their shutters and door, and only small cracks of lights could be seen in the darkening streets. Simon realized very suddenly that if he were attacked, no one would see, and he doubted whether anyone would come to help. He hefted the bag and quickened the pace of his steps. There were faster ways, Simon knew, to get back to Magnus's house, but that required him to cut through back alleys and dark side streets, and if he was being followed, he wasn't going to put himself in that much danger. Instead, Simon turned up the main street that would take him back to the city proper, and he hoped he could cut across the city before the curfew came down.

For ten minutes, Simon went unhampered and he began to think that he had been dreaming the man in the dark blue cloak and his unwanted shadow, but, as he passed back through the now empty city, he thought he heard a swish of fabric and the whisper of a voice. Simon moved faster now, spotting the street that would take him up to the private, protected neighborhood where Isabelle was making her home.

Just as Simon was leaving the city proper, though, a shadow crossed his vision and Simon drew to a halt. There were figures in the corner of his eyes, and he reached desperately for the knife at his belt. _Just stay calm, Simon, stay calm and keep a level head. If you distract them long enough, the patrol should be searching the streets and they'll find you._

"Why are you following me?" Simon demanded, sounding surer than he felt. "Since I went to the human side of town, and back to here, you've been an unpleasant shadow. Why are you following me?"

At first, there was no answer, and Simon wondered if maybe he had gone made, but then there was a soft hiss, like a breath being released, and then an accented voice said, "You are Simon Lewis, friend to the Lightwoods, Bane, and the Herondales."

"I am," Simon answered loudly. With any luck, someone would hear him in the street. "And who are you, coward? Who is the man that lurks in the shadows?"

"Hardly a man," scoffed the voice. "I wouldn't be too concerned with who I am, Simon, but more concerned with what we want."

"My very next question," said Simon, hands gripping the hilt of the dagger firmly. "Why are you following me?"

"I've answered that. Because you are Simon Lewis." The sound of the fabric rustling was heard, and Simon thought whoever was stalking him was circling about like an animal about its prey. "We are on the very brink of war, and your friends, they are at the very heart."

"If you're so interested in my friends," began Simon, "then why don't you talk to them? If you're so anxious to meet the Herondales, I'll take you to them." And then he added, although it tasted like ask in his mouth, "I'm sure Jace Herondale would love to meet a silent vigilante who has designs on his wife."

"I am no fool," laughed the voice. "Jace and Clarissa Herondale are proper shadowhunters, dangerous to my kind; if half of the rumors I've heard are true, I have no intention of fighting Jace Herondale."

"Then you are a coward!" Simon proclaimed, and again, he hoped someone might hear him.

"A coward, maybe, but I'm still alive, and that's something. So, tell me, Simon," and here, the voice took on a rather teasing quality, "what are you doing out so late, and so alone?"

"My business is my own, and I'll keep it that way," he answered curtly. "Now, either show yourself, or be on your way." When there was no answer, Simon hefted his pack again. "I'm off!"

"Be silent, Lewis," snapped the voice. "You ask what we want with you? Well I will tell you: you are a friend of very important people, and these people are the point around which all the recent events turn."

"And what of it?"

"We are not pleased with recent events," the voice said simply. "We are not happy about war, we are not happy about our people dying, and we are not happy about fighting for the lives of some stupid shadowhunter whore and her runt husband. If the Herondales are so important to the Demon King, we say, give them up!"

Simon flushed at the insult aimed at Clary. "I dare you to say those words to her face."

"No need," murmured the voice. "You have heard, no doubt, that actions speak louder than words? Well, our actions will speak louder than our words; we will let the Clave, the warlock Bane, and those damnable Herondales know we are _not pleased._"

"And will you?" challenged Simon.

"And you will help us." It was those words that drew Simon up short and he squinted into the shadows, feeling a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"I will do no such thing," vowed Simon. "If you think to threaten me or intimidate me, you will find yourself disappointed, indeed."

"We don't require your consent," was all the voice said, and then there was silence.

Simon heard before he saw the figure, and he swung about to meet them. All he saw was a flash of color and his hand slashed out for it, but he knew he'd missed. Another figure lunged for him, and again, all Simon could see was a blur of color. It seemed that his defenses were wasted on the attackers. Simon could feel himself being herded back, slowly but surely, into a corner, and he knew that he was being cut off from escape, but there was no way to overcome his attackers. When Simon's back brushed up against a wall, he realized very suddenly that he was in danger.

_Soldiers should be coming soon, _he thought, panicked. _There have got to be men coming soon. Someone will find me before these men have at me._

When the next figure came at him, Simon finally managed to land a blow on the man. He was shocked when the man stumbled back, because he was clearly _not _a man. He looked almost completely normal, from his thick, brown hair to his dull blue eyes, but his skin was paler than the palest snow, and his mouth was open in a cry, small fangs glinting in the night light. He snarled at Simon, touching the blood that was leaking out of a slice that ran the length of his face.

"You bastard," he hissed, and then launched himself at Simon.

Simon felt something heavy, like a boulder, hit him in the chest, sending him toppling backwards. The wind knocked out of him, stars flashing in his eyes, Simon tried to draw a breath, but he was almost sure one of his lungs was collapsed. The man landed on him, baring fangs, and other figures moved forward, more vampires, more furious vigilantes.

"How horrible will it be for that slut when she finds her best friend has become a monster?" asked the vampire, grinning crookedly. "How will she feel when she realizes it is her thoughtlessness and evil that has brought this about?"

"Leave Clary out of it," gasped Simon.

"_Clary_, is it?" sneered the vampire. "Does her husband know you call her that?"

Simon, tasting a mouthful of blood, spit it into the vampire's face. "It's you who should be worried about saying her name. You're kind disgust me!"

"He hates vampires," laughed one of his fellows, but Simon snarled at him.

"I don't hate _vampires_," he laughed. "I hate filthy, little cowards!"

The vampire hissed in anger and prepared to lunge, but the one sitting astride Simon held up a hand in warning. "No, don't bother wasting your breath over him. Let me deal with the little lord."

Simon sensed rather than saw the vampire reveal his fang in the same way a small, helpless animal senses the approach of a predator. The vampire was very tense and still, and Simon could feel his blood pounding erratically in his veins. For a single, silent moment, both Simon and the vampire looked into each other's eyes, and then Simon blinked and the next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his neck as the vampire sunk his fangs into his throat.

* * *

"Simon should be here by now," Isabelle fretted, twitching the curtains of the window of Alec's bedroom shut. "He said he'd be back before the lights went down. Do you think he's alright?"

Alec, who had heard never-ending worries from his sister, treated this one much the same as he had the others. "I think he's fine, Izzy, and don't worry so much, it'll put wrinkles in your face faster than time. And no man wants an old woman."

Isabelle shot Alec a dark look, but her eyes were sparkling playfully. Lately, Alec had been more awake, more aware of those around him. She considered the return of his sense of humor as a sign of his recovery. "And what would you know of it, Alec? You spend so much time with Magnus I highly doubt you know-" but Isabelle broke off as she saw his face.

"Is it noticeable?" Alec whispered, looking at his palms shamefully. "Does everyone know that I spend my time with Magnus?"

"You _work _for Magnus," Isabelle sighed, but she knew something else was on her brother's mind. "Alec, no one cares who you spend your time with! If you prefer Magnus's company to the pointless chatter of women, it's no concern of anyone's."

"But isn't it?" Alec asked, his voice ragged with emotion. "Isabelle, even you can't deny that I'm not…normal."

Isabelle sucked in her breath. "Alexander Lightwood, how can you say that? You are completely, absolutely, _horribly_ normal. You're as normal as any person I've ever met!"

"Izzy," he said so softly she barely heard him. "I'm-I'm in love with another man."

"And so what?" Isabelle challenged. She came away from the window and sat by his side, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. "I'm telling you, Alec, you're as ordinary as any other person here. All you want is to spend the rest of your life with the person you love. How is that any different from Clary and Jace?"

"Because Clary and Jace are a man and woman," Alec practically growled.

"I don't think it matters who you love, so long as you love them with all your heart," Isabelle replied. "I've seen the way you look at Magnus, from the moment you first met him in Clary's room to the moment you woke from your injuries, and I see that you love him. You followed him from the castle, you agreed to work for him, and you joined him in battle. You've done things, Alec, things you'd never have done had Magnus not been there. He brings out the best in you, Alec, and you in him. There is _nothing _wrong with that."

Alec's eyes had dropped, and he felt his heart go out to his sister. Shallow and rather flighty, Isabelle could still surprise Alec, and he wondered how he might have had such luck as to have Isabelle as his sister. "I just wanted you to know how I felt."

Isabelle cupped Alec's face in her hands. "And I am happy for you, Alec; I wish you and Magnus all the love in the world."

"Thank you," he murmured. "Now, what is it that worries you so about this Simon?"

"He has been gone awhile," she hedged, not wanting to leave the subject of Magnus, but sensing that Alec would not go back. "It is dark now and illegal for him to walk the streets; if he is coming, he is in danger."

Alec looked thoughtful. "I'll ask Magnus. Maybe he has a spell or charm that will allow him to go unseen and search for Simon."

Isabelle nodded and rose up to track down Magnus. After a tense conversation where Magnus looked worried, he agreed to cast a spell and hunt down the wayward Simon. Not long after he left, there was a faint knock on the door, and Isabelle, anxious for Simon, rushed to answer it. It was, however, only Jace and Clary brining Max over.

"What's wrong, Izzy?" Jace asked at once, Max twisting around in Jace's arms to look into his sister's eyes.

"Simon…" Isabelle began, but failed when she saw Clary's eyes sharpen.

"What about Simon?" she asked once, pushing her way into the house and locking the door. "Where is he?"

Isabelle shrugged. "He offered to go back to our house and bring some clothes for me and Max. But that was almost three hours ago, so I asked Magnus to go find him. We're waiting."

Clary raised her eyebrows. "Simon went out when it was so late? He could have been caught by the Clave!"

"I know!" Isabelle cried, holding up her hands defensively. "Don't you think I feel awful?"

Clary crossed her arms angrily, but Jace put Max down and placed a heavy hand on Clary's shoulder. "She knows, she just gets worried about Simon. He's only human, after all."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Max said, staring up at Jace with his huge eyes. "Where's Alec? Is he walking yet?"

"Not yet," Isabelle said tiredly. "He's still in his bed upstairs. Why don't you go see how he is while I get some you some dinner?" Max took off like a shot while Isabelle looked after him, lips pursed in thought. "I don't know what to do about Max. He's got such an uncertain future, what with Alec working for Magnus, and me a shop keeper; what is he supposed to inherit? Our parents' land was razed, and that should have been our inheritance; what can Max claim as his now?"

"It's not about land," Jace said comfortingly. "Many people don't inherit land when their parents die. Some have family run businesses that have been in their name for generations. Some are travelers. Some make a completely new living for themselves, you know, get out into the world."

"It's so hard to change a way of life," Isabelle whispered, thinking of her own secret desire to leave behind the farm land. She had been fighting with herself about it for the last few months, arguing about tradition versus survival. It always ended with her feeling guilty about her dead parents.

"But a something, once changed, can be worth the struggle," Clary said gently, and then she smiled brilliantly at her. "Think nothing of it, Isabelle, there is too much to worry us as it is. Has Magnus got any word from the Clave about war?"

"If he has, he doesn't share it," Isabelle said thoughtlessly, and went to the kitchen, cutting off hunks of meat from a duck. "He sits mostly with Alec when he's here, reading up on war strategy and history. I think he's still trying to find a trace of your brother's illness somewhere. He's far kinder than people think," she said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" asked Jace, sitting down but fingering the knife he always wore at his belt. Simon's absence had made him slightly nervous. "Do people talk?"

"Well, Magnus doesn't look like he's from around these parts, even the warlocks say it. And, he's very powerful and a fair bit older than them, I should think. He's something of a mystery, and I think a lot of the dumber inhabitants don't trust what they don't know. I used to hear it all the time when I worked in the shop. You should have seen the looks on peoples' faces when I told them I knew him and my brother worked for him."

"Magnus was always kind to me," Clary sniffed. "People are just unreasonable."

"Unreasonable is a nice word for it," Isabelle hedged. "I get the feeling Magnus isn't the most popular, in fact, I get the feeling a lot of shadowhunters and their friends aren't popular."

"You can say that again," Jace said blankly, his eyes staring out the window of the kitchen. "It appears Magnus has located Simon, and I don't think he's in any good way."

It only took Clary a second to see the tall, stooped figure of Magnus Bane, carrying a bloody, beaten Simon before she shot out of the kitchen and out the door, deaf to Jace's cries. It was dark out, but it didn't matter, not when Clary could hear the labored breathing of Magnus and the oddly silent Simon. She met them just as they crossed over Magnus's fence, her face pale as snow and her hands shaking. Jace and Isabelle rushed out to meet them.

"What happened?" Clary asked, a sickening sensation washing over her as the whole scene reminded her of Alec's recent injury. "Is Simon alright?"

"He's been attacked," Magnus said gruffly. "Get out of my way; I need to get him into the light." Magnus pushed past a frantic Clary and into his house.

The scene that unfolded was one Clary didn't think she could ever forget. Magnus had dumped Simon unceremoniously to the ground to study him. He was covered in dirt and a fair bit of blood. It had stained his shirt red, and had blossomed all over his neck and shoulder like a birth mark. She saw that Simon was very pale and his eyes, open and unseeing. She could hear herself asking a string of silly questions, but none of it mattered. And those eyes were still staring up at her.

"Clary, come away," Jace's voice said in her ear urgently. "Let's go upstairs and give Magnus room to work. You know how he gets when people are in his way." Jace tugged Clary, but she refused to move, unable to understand why Jace wanted her gone.

Jace, though, had seen and understood what Clary refused to believe. Simon's skin was paler than the palest of snow, so pale, his purple veins were showing through. His eyes were glassy and blank, the unseeing look of the dead. His chest didn't rise or fall, not even slightly. Jace knew, just looking, that Simon Lewis was dead, and he didn't want Clary to come to that conclusion with the body staring up at her.

"Clary, come on, come with me-"

"I'm not leaving Simon!" Clary snapped, pushing Jace. "I want to be with him when he wakes up."

"Clary," Jace practically begged, "_please _come with me. I know you want to be here for Simon, and I know you care about him, but I think you should just take the air a moment."

"I don't care what you think!" Clary cried suddenly, tears sparkling in her eyes. "You never liked Simon anyway; you always treated him like he was just a little child. Well, he's my _best friend_, the only friend I ever had. He was with me long before you ever came waltzing into my life!"

Clary started to cry then, and Jace knew that she was beginning to understand what had happened. "I accept that, and I've never been more grateful that he was there for you, but I still think you should go away-"

"He's my friend," she sobbed loudly, dropping to her knees and tugging useless on his limp arm. "Simon, you're my best friend. You came all this way just to find me, and I'm sorry!" She was hysterical now, pleading with what she knew was a corpse. "I know you loved me once, and I know I broke your heart marrying Jace, and I'm sorry! I should have told you from the start, I should have let you know somehow. But, please, don't do this now, please don't go…"

"Clary-" Isabelle began, but Clary cut her off.

"Be quiet!" Clary snarled, turning on Isabelle like a feral wolf. "This is all your fault anyway, sending him off to get your things. Why do you even need clothes, you had them here!"

Jace dropped down to join Clary, and he wondered how she might hold him accountable. "Please, Clary, come away."

"I'm not leaving him for you again, Jace," she said coldly. "I'm sorry, Simon, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen, I never meant for you to get drawn up into all this. Please, just come back…" Clary shaking Simon now, trying to shake life back into him, and Jace suspected that she was going to hurt herself soon if she wasn't careful; her eyes were empty and far away, and she had the look of a woman with nothing worth living for. Slowly, his eyes moved to Magnus.

"Help me," he said tightly, eyes shooting to Clary.

Magnus sighed and went to join them. "Clary?" he asked gently, and she turned to look at her. Jace saw Magnus's fingers glow and felt a warmth course through him, and then Magnus's hand shot out, touched Clary's forehead with one long finger, and she swooned, unconscious.

* * *

It was darkness that greeted Clary when she finally woke. She was lying in a bed, _her bed_, in clean night clothes, wrapped in a warm blanket. Her vision was foggy and her memory unclear, but she looked out the window and saw nighttime and the rune stones glowing like stars in the heaven. Clary strained to recall what had brought her here.

_We'd gone to visit Alec and Isabelle…Isabelle was nervous, but why…? _Clary couldn't put two thoughts together. _I hope Alec is alright, after all, he's only human, and they die so easily. I can't believe he was attacked…only human…only…human…_

Clary sat up straight, memories rushing back to her. "Simon!"

"I'm sorry, Clary," said a voice to her left. She turned and found that Jace was seated on the bed beside her, his eyes full of some painful emotion. "You were hysterical, and I didn't want you to hurt yourself. You can be angry with me if you want, but I don't like seeing you that way."

Clary felt any residual anger drain out of her at the sight of Jace, so ready for her fury. She slumped in the blankets. "He's dead, isn't he?" she asked, finally saying the word she couldn't bear to believe. "Simon, I mean."

Jace drew Clary into his arms. "Magnus says so."

"Do you know how he died?"

"It took a while to figure out, but Magnus thinks he was attacked by a vampire." Jace waited for Clary to figure out what this meant. "Simon might not…die."

Clary shuddered. "He didn't deserve it, Jace. Simon only came here, to this damn city, because of me. I'm the reason and look how he paid for it. Look what I've done."

"Clary this wasn't your fault."

"Even if it's not," she said hopelessly, "even if Simon was innocent in all this and it was just some freak attack, he'll never be the same. He'll never go back to how he was." Clary's face fell into her hands and Jace held her while she sobbed. "Why do I ruin everything I touch?"


	17. Rise Up

Rise Up

Clary wandered around her mother's house with empty eyes for two days. She was sick to the point where Jace wanted to call Magnus over, but she refused on the grounds that if Simon was going to become a vampire, Magnus should be there to take care of him; her selflessness, however, didn't make her any healthier. At night, she would wake up sweating, panting, and shivering uncontrollably. Clary would lurch from the bed to the bathroom where she would double up and vomit. During the day, she would curl up on the couch or on the bed and stare blankly around her; she couldn't eat but she drank water in excess. Jace suspected that Clary's sickness was brought on mostly by guilt and that she had made herself ill, but it didn't stop him from seeing to her every need.

"You should go outside, Clary," Jace said, watching Clary while she picked over a bowl of soup. "The fresh air might do you some good, and you must be bored with the house."

Clary stared up at him and her lip trembled. "They buried Simon outside, in the backyard…"

Jace realized at once what Clary meant. "I didn't mean to go see where he was; I just wanted you to leave the house for a little bit."

"I hate going outside." Clary pushed her soup away. "Even if Simon comes back, he won't be able to go outside again. He'll be trapped in the dark."

Jace sighed. "Clary, how about we take a walk through the city? We can visit the bakery and the bookstore, and we can see how the rest of the city fares." When Clary looked away uncertainly, Jace pleaded, "Please, Clary, I beg of you, let me take you away from this place. I can't bear to see you suffering like this."

"I don't want to be gone long if Simon might rise tonight," Clary hedged.

"You won't," Jace said swiftly. "I'll have you back before nightfall, and then we'll go over to see Magnus and wait in his backyard. I just want you to leave this house, just for a bit. It's almost like seeing you when we first arrived…"

Clary gave him a long look, and then cast a speculative glance down at herself. Had she really let herself go in such a short time? "I don't mean to worry you."

"Clary, my dear, you have caused me countless nights of worry," he said, but he was smiling at her, and she saw that his eyes were glowing with love. "Come, get dressed and I'll take you about and help you clear your mind."

When Clary found herself staring at her wardrobe a few minutes later, she was at a loss. Her life at court seemed ages ago, and she had forgotten what was appropriate for a day dress. As she didn't have many choices, she found herself wavering between a red and gold gown and a blue number, but neither color was really suitable for day ware.

_If we run across any of Jace's acquaintances he won't want me looking ridiculous, besides,_ Clary thought obsessing over something that wasn't Simon, _I'm Clarissa Herondale, I'm the daughter of Valentine and the sister of Jonathan. I have a name uphold. I need to the let the people know I'm not ashamed to show my face._

"I need a dress," she muttered, and then quietly, crept to her mother's room.

Clary had wondered if Jocelyn had taken any tokens of her past life with her when she left the court-aside from her condemning little tidbits of Clary's childhood. The room, when Clary entered, was in shadow and she felt like she was in hostile territory. There were no decorations on the walls, no sentimental pieces by the bed, not even a book on her bedside table. The closet, however, was well stocked, and Clary sighed with relief when she discovered a small collection of dresses, one of them rosy pink with gold trimming.

With a little struggle, Clary slipped into the gown and called Jace to lace the back. He checked on the spot at the sight of her. "Where did you find that?"

Clary smirked at his shock. "Forgotten I could dress, did you?"

"I meant," he said with a smooth, seductive smile, "the dress. Where did you find the dress?"

"I raided my mother's closet," she shrugged. "I thought that if I was going to go out, I might as well make some impression. Now, where's that cloak?"

Clary and Jace left the house, checking up and down the street for any sign of unwanted guests or Clave members. Jocelyn, who was often gone and immersed in war councils, had told them the day Simon was attacked that they were still under the Clave's eye and should mind who follows them. Jace, however, didn't see anyone, and Clary grinned at him childishly when he offered her his arm gallantly. Together, arm in arm, they headed for the city proper.

Since it was early day, and the curfew was hours away, Alicante was buzzing with people. Stores were open, carts lined up, and small booths with fresh vegetable and fruits lined the streets. Clary noted, as she passed the first few carts, that the vegetable stands were sparse, and the produce looked markedly dull. A few feet on, she passed a meat shop, and the window was empty of all produce but a few hanging chickens.

"The food looks wanting," Clary commented softly in Jace's ear. "Do you think it's the war?"

Jace scrunched his nose at a vendor who proffered a head of lettuce with a spattering of brown leaves. "We entered into this war in late January, and we must be just now leaving February; spring isn't quite here yet. But," Jace nodded, "the war must be making it difficult to bring in cattle."

They passed on and moved into the city proper where they were consumed by the crowds. Clary and Jace had both drawn their hoods up, but Clary began to sense eyes on her, and she pressed herself against Jace. As always, the city was churning with men and women from every different walk of life. Clary spotted werewolves and vampires, witches and warlocks, fairies and elves, and not a few humans. In the day time, everyone seemed to be in much better moods, and though the sense of war hung in the air, it was repressed.

"Is Isabelle mad at me?" Clary asked thoughtfully as they paused outside a bakery. "I was very sharp with her two days ago, and I want to make it up to her. She is my friend, after all…" Clary nodded at the bakery and Jace smiled faintly.

"I'm sure she'd like it," Jace agreed.

In the shop, it was a fairy who greeted them, blinking her huge, milky eyes at them. Clary flipped her hood back, tossing her hair over her shoulders and Jace shook his hood off, smiling when Clary laughed at him. Clary had just turned to greet the girl behind the counter and ask for a box of cookies when the fairy spotted her green eyes and spattering of freckles; the girl started at the sight of her and glanced behind her nervously.

"Clarissa? Clarissa Morgenstern?" Her voice was high and echoed through the empty store front.

"Yes?" Clary asked, her stomach sinking.

"And you," she nodded at Jace, "You're Jace Herondale?"

"I am," he answered stiffly. "Why do you want to know-?"

"You have to leave," the fairy said at once, pointing quickly to the door. "I can't help you."

"We just want to buy some cookies!" Clary protested, drawing back all the same.

The fairy girl shook her head and looked behind her. "No, you have to go; I don't want you're kind in here. My family doesn't want any trouble."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Trouble?"

"Go," the girl ordered. "I'm sorry, but I don't want any trouble, and that's all you bring with you. I've heard the rumors…" Her eyes faltered and she looked down, as if summoning courage, and then lifted her chin and faced Clary. "Your brother is the Demon King."

Clary blanched and clutched Jace's wrist tightly. "No, she's my wife," Jace hissed. "I don't see why you can't sell cookies to Clarissa _Herondale_."

"The name Herondale isn't too popular around here either, I might add," the fairy said swiftly. "Please, leave my shop before I have to call for the Rangers."

"I am a member-" Jace began, but Clary plucked his sleeve.

"Just leave it, Jace," Clary pleaded softly. "Please, just leave it. Come on, we can try another bakery. Come on!" Clary tugged him once more and then drew her hood up again.

Jace shot the fairy one last withering look before he too drew his hood and led Clary from the store. "Downworlders, they hate shadowhunters; blame us for all their problems…"

Clary nodded, but her heart wasn't in it; she knew it was _her _that the fairy hadn't wanted in her shop. "I think there's more to this than that, Jace; she didn't want us in her shop because of Jonathan. Do you think everyone is like this?"

Jace tried to look unconcerned, but his eyes betrayed him. "Let's just go see if Luke's shop is open. You could probably use something new to read in the nights."

When they arrived at the bookshop, though, they found the doors closed and the lamps doused. Clary pressed her nose against the glass, but it looked like it had been empty a while. "Do you think Luke is okay?" she asked.

"He's a pack master," Jace reasoned, pulling Clary away from the glass. "He's got an entire pack of wolves at his call; I think he's fine. Besides, he always seemed to be able to hold his own. Remember the time he bit Jonathan?"

Clary frowned at the thought. "Do you think Luke is going to fight the demon armies?"

"I can't see why not," Jace said, and drew her away and back towards the center of the city. "He's a seasoned warrior, I mean, he lived with your for years, protecting you from Valentine and Jonathan. And I'm sure his pack is one of largest; the Clave will be pressing for their participation."

They had reentered the city proper now, and Clary was now surreptitiously peeking out of her hood at the men and women around her. Thought none of them could see her face, she was sure she could feel eyes on her. "Can we trust the Downworlders if they fight with us?"

"You trust Luke, don't you?"

"But Luke is different," Clary protested. "I mean, Downworlders like that fairy who think we're all the cause of this war. Couldn't there be some sort of mass dissention?"

"Well, maybe," Jace mused. "However, I do think the Clave will make sure any Downworlders who fight will be loyal enough to the cause. Anyway, I don't think they want to risk the wrath of Jonathan any more than we do. He may be a friend to demons, but Downworlders are only part demon."

Clary pressed her lips together thinking of all those who had already been hurt or killed, and then told Jace she'd rather go home then than wander past unwanted eyes. By the time they reached Jocelyn's home, the evening was coming in and Clary thought faintly of dinner, and making enough for all the guests with Magnus. She passed into the house, feeling like she were descending back into prison, and trudged up the stairs and shimmied out of the dress and into leggings and shirt.

"We should go next door," Clary said as she entered the kitchen to find Jace sipping a mug of ale thoughtfully. "I'd like to apologize to Isabelle and see if there's any news of Simon."

"Your mother might look for you," Jace pointed out; he didn't think things would go well if Jocelyn returned home after two days and found her daughter missing. "You should leave a note."

Clary scribbled something on a piece of paper and left it on the table and the two crept out of the house and over the back fence to Magnus's back door. When they entered, they were greeted by a thoroughly overexcited Max.

"Magnus says Simon will probably rise tonight!" He squirmed with excitement. "I've never seen a vampire, a _real _vampire, up close. I mean, I've seen the ones who creep around the city, but Simon will be in our backyard-"

"Max!" It was Isabelle, and she looked part furious, part apologetic. She rushed forward, giving Clary a once over, and then showed them into the kitchen. "I suppose you've come over for Simon?"

"Partly," Clary said before Jace could speak. She gave Isabelle a small, sad smile and then dropped her eyes. "I'd also like to apologize, Isabelle; I shouldn't have blamed you for Simon being attacked when it wasn't your fault." She said this very fast, unaccustomed to apologies herself, and then glanced up to see how the other girl had taken it.

Isabelle blinked and then offered Clary a friendly shrug. "I hope he rises tonight, I have so much I'd like to say…" she warbled off, but her eyes were shining with tears. "Well, come into the kitchen; I've made stew for dinner, and Alec is up and out of bed."

"Is he?" asked Jace keenly and glanced into the kitchen.

As it was, Alec was up and about, though his face was still pale and he winced every time he put weight on his feet the wrong way. But, when he saw Jace and Clary enter the kitchen, a smile creased his face; Clary thought the smile suited him, and that he should wear one more often. Jace hailed Alec when they entered like a brother.

"You're looking much better Alec," he said, joining him at the table with a dark grin. "Ready to join the fray again?"

"He's absolutely _not,_" said Isabelle forcefully, glowering at Jace. "Alec is staying here, and I'll personally flay the man who talks of war again." She was holding a spoon that she'd been stirring the stew with, and she waved it threateningly at Jace. "That includes you, Herondale."

Jace threw up his hands. "I'll never cross you."

"Where's Magnus?" Clary asked suddenly, noting his absence. "He hasn't gone back to the Clave already, has he?"

"He's in the backyard, behind the bushes on the very edge, where we buried Simon," Alec said, then realized what he'd said, and blushed furiously. "I'm sorry, Clary."

"Don't be," said Clary stiffly. "I'm going out to wait with him if you don't mind? I really can't bear this waiting."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Jace asked, but he looked so comfortable and relaxed, seated at the table with Max now perched on his knees, that she couldn't tear him away from it. She shook her head and winked at him before heading back out into the darkening yard.

The evening lights weren't lit yet, but Clary knew the night was coming in. She shivered in the chill air that had nothing to do with the season, and rubbed her arms. She scanned the yard, saw the corner where a crop of trees had sprung up, and walked softly over. She paused a moment outside the ring of trees, and then pushed back the branches and entered the small alcove. Magnus was there, muttering to himself and checking a large pile of turned soil. Clary stared at it a moment, and then the realization that Simon was _under_ that dirt made her head spin.

"Magnus, can I join you?" she asked weakly, still eyeing the shallow grave. "I want to be here when Simon-well, when he comes back."

Magnus was watching Clary closely. "You may, of course, join me, but I must warn you, Clary, Simon may not-"

Clary held up a hand. "I don't want to hear it. I just want to sit here, in the dark, and watch the lights come down and wait."

"Noble sentiment," observed Magnus.

"Magnus," said Clary, sinking to the ground before the graveside, "is there public unrest in the city? I mean to say, are the Downworlders not happy with the war?"

Magnus's eyes glimmered in the coming dark. "Well, I can't say they're too pleased with the idea of fighting this war; I think some of them are just too content to wait it out. However, they're foolish if they think this way of life could last." Magnus gestured around him. "Hiding beneath the remains of a city, cowering in the shadows of Valentine and his son? No, we would have had to rise up one day, some just protest the change."

"I'm worried we might meet more objections," she said, then told Magnus about the fairy girl in the bakery. "And she said called Jonathan the Demon King."

"It goes hard on some," Magnus admitted, "to fight a battle they think they didn't start. But, like I said, they could not have remained this way forever. It will just take time for the people to adjust to the idea."

Clary pushed dirt around with her fingers contemplatively. "The fairy seemed very angry."

"Fairies are a little temperamental," shrugged Magnus, and his eyes moved over Clary's head. "Ah, Lover Boy approaches."

Clary half expected to see Alec coming across the lawn, but it was Jace. Clary smiled wanly over at Magnus. "I don't think Jace would ever forgive you for saying that if he heard."

"Yes, well," Magnus chuckled, "I have always gotten away with my fair share of jests. I feel that life is painfully dull without it."

"Dull without what?" asked Jace, arriving on the scene with slices of steamy bread in a napkin. He handed the bread to Clary with a wink. "Me?"

"How is it," began Magnus, "that we can be standing beside the grave of a lord about to turn vampire, and you somehow manage to turn our conversation to you?"

"I didn't, you did," Jace pointed out, and then sank down beside Clary, rubbing her shoulders. "Has there been any sign yet?"

"No," Clary said, taking a bite of the bread. "It's still rather bright out, and it could take hours for Simon to crawl out." Clary looked suddenly to Magnus. "He will rise tonight?"

"If he's going to shift, then yes," said Magnus shortly, and then saw what little blood there was in Clary's face drain out. "Have a bit of faith, Clary; Simon was always a stubborn boy when it came to being around you."

Clary chewed the bread thoughtfully. "Do you have blood?"

Magnus sniffed delicately. "I made a trip to the market yesterday for jugs of fresh cow blood. It will simply have to suit."

"Cow blood?" Jace asked, disgusted.

"Are you offering?" Magnus shot back.

Jace held up his hands. "Max is practically dying to watch a vampire rise just so he can tell his friends, but I figured it's a better idea to keep him away in case something goes wrong."

"You mean _Isabelle_ wants him inside," Clary giggled. "You'd give Max whatever he wanted, probably think it's brilliant for him to come see this."

"If you're going to split hairs-"

"Listen!" Magnus hissed sharply, cutting them both off. "Be quiet and listen."

Jace and Clary stopped their playful arguing and turned to see that Magnus was staring at the ground. There was the strangest sound coming from the ground, like dirt being shifted, like fingers clawing at soil. Clary moved automatically away from the grave, but still well within reach if Simon needed help. Jace, sitting beside her, moved before her, like he always did. They heard more and more shifting, and then a gasping sound.

"He can't get out!" Clary cried, pushing Jace aside and lunging for the loose soil. She started clawing at it frantically. "Help me! He'll die if he can't get out."

"Clary!" Magnus said sharply. "Simon should do it on his own."

"To hell with that," she spat, and began throwing clumps of dirt behind her. "I won't leave Simon alone, not again." When no one else moved to help her, Clary turned on Jace like a snake. "Help me, Jace. You helped me escape my father and brother, not help me with Simon!"

Jace blanched but inched forward uncertainly. "It's a vampire's job to rise."

"We'll I'll rise with him!" Clary snarled and then threw the dirt viciously aside.

Jace didn't help her, but neither did he stop her. Magnus watched Clary, feeling a deep sympathy for the girl who had lost so much, and was so desperate keep those few things that were still intact. She continued to ravage the ground, muttering to herself about Simon and not leaving him again, and then, very suddenly, the ground shook and a hand shot out of the ground, fingers in a claw like hook. Clary shrieked.

"Simon!" She grasped his hand and started tugging on it mercilessly. "I'm coming, Simon, I swear I am. Just push a little more, I'll help you!"

"Clary, be careful," Jace warned. "Simon's a vampire."

But if Clary heard Jace she didn't heed him; she scrabbled at the loose earth throwing more and more clumps aside. Simon's hand was grasping at the air now, clawing at nothing desperately. After a moment, another hand was unearthed and Clary grabbed it and began pulled Simon free of his shallow grave. It seemed the earth didn't want to let Simon go, though, and his body wouldn't emerge from the soil. Clary was crying his name, trying to call him to her by only her voice, and still, his body didn't come.

"Maybe he didn't make it," Magnus said softly to Jace. "He might have died in the struggle. It happens often to vampire newborns; they just aren't meant to be immortals."

Jace hoped beyond a hope that Simon was strong enough to make the shift; he didn't think Clary could handle watching him die again, and he knew he wouldn't be able to coax her from the depression that would bring. "Simon's better than that. He followed Clary all the way here from Jonathan's court; I don't think he'll leave her now."

Clary heaved very sharply on Simon's hands, and the soil finally gave way. First his arms came, then his shoulders, then his broad chest and, finally, his face. Clary gave a cry of relief and fell back to examine Simon, who were seated in the grave as though it were his bed and the dirt his blankets. He stared blankly around him, his face paler than the palest snow and his eyes dark and reflective; he didn't draw breath, his chest didn't rise. If he weren't sitting up, he would have been nothing but a corpse. Clary tentatively reached out and brushed some of the dirt in his hair away, trying to cajole some life into him. Simon seemed unresponsive, and then he blinked.

A snarl ripped from Simon's mouth and he lunged at Clary like a hungry animal. Jace cried in outrage and Magnus gave a start, but Clary and Simon had already soared through the air landed ten feet away from the grave, rolling over and over again in the grass and dirt. Part of Clary was already thinking defensive tactics, but when she glanced up, it was Simon's face she was seeing, and she felt a fresh wave of love and panic set in, rendering her immobile.

"Get off her, Simon!" Jace cried, running over and gripping him around his shoulders. "Come on, get off-" But Simon, who was no longer the human Jace was so accustomed, shrugged, and Jace was tossed five feet away. Clary squirmed underneath him, and, when his fangs descended, she whimpered.

"Simon, wait, please, I'm just trying to help you," Clary began quickly. "I know you're thirsty, but we've got blood for you. Fresh animal blood, and you'll like that so much more than mine." In response, Simon took Clary's chin in his hand and pressed it down to the side, giving him a clear shot of her throat.

Clary cried out and then Jace shot from the side, launching himself into Simon's ribs and sending the two boys flying through the air. When they landed, Jace was holding Simon down, sitting on his chest while the vampire boy thrashed back and forth violently. Magnus rushed over, one hand glowing with magic, the other offering up a jug of blood.

"Don't hurt him!" Clary begged, scrambling over to Jace. "Please, he didn't know what he was doing, he's just doing what vampires do! Jace, don't hurt him."

"Clary!" he ordered sharply, and she fell silent. "I'm not going to hurt your friend, but he's dangerous, and he'll try and hurt you if we give him the chance. Just stand back and let him feed."

Clary drew a shuddering breath. "He's my friend," she said weakly, and then sat back to watch.

Magnus joined them, and, while Jace held Simon down, uncorked the bottle, and then placed it to Simon's lips. Jace held him down, but Simon had stopped thrashing about. He jerked his arms free of Jace's grasp, grabbed the bottle, and drained the bottle in half a minute. He tossed it aside just as Magnus offered another. Simon shoved Jace off him as if he were an annoying fly and focused solely on the bottle of wine in his hand. Jace had rolled over to Clary, and was staring at Simon like he'd never seen him before.

"He'll feed on cow blood till he's full," said Jace blankly, looking over at Clary's shocked face. "He'll be alright, Clary; once he's had his fill and had a good long sleep, Simon will be back to his senses."

Clary bit her lips. "But for what?" she asked. "Simon was supposed to be a lord, Jace; he had a family and friends and a life, and now look at him! He's a vampire, he can't go out during the day, he'll drink blood, he'll be hated by the humans."

"He'll be perfectly understood," Jace said gently. "He's living in a city full of Downworlders, Clary; he'll make a way for himself."

"This wasn't supposed to happen."

"He's still your friend, just a bit different," said Jace, but Clary was saved responding by the shriek that tore the air.

"Simon!" Isabelle cried, standing in the light of the kitchen that was pouring out the door. She looked so small and terrified, watching as the boy she had slowly taken quite a liking to drain a wine bottle full of blood and toss it aside carelessly. "Simon, are you alright?"

"Stay where you are!" ordered Magnus sharply, giving her a hard look. "You stay there, Isabelle!"

Isabelle froze, but Simon now licking his fingers and lips clean and looking around, a bit of the madness fading from his eyes. He looked at Clary, and there was no recognition, and then over at Jace and curled his lip, and finally at Magnus, who had offered him the blood to being with.

"Simon, do you remember me?" asked Magnus imperiously. "I'm Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Alicante." Simon pressed his lips together and cast a sullen look downwards. Clary was reminded of a child being told off by its parent. "You're going to have to sleep in the cellar for now while you come back to your senses. Follow me to the basement, Simon." Simon shrugged helplessly, and with a last look at Clary, stood up awkwardly and trailed after Magnus to the entrance to the cellar. Clary watched him go with a pain in her heart.

"Clary…" Isabelle began emptily. "I-I don't know what to say."

"He's back," Clary said firmly, looking up at Isabelle from her place in the grass. "Simon's back and he's going to be okay."

Isabelle nodded and then her eyes widened. "He's back…Clary, I meant to tell you, you're mother came back-"

"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern!" Jocelyn's voice rang across the backyard, sounding like nothing so much as a furious queen. Clary watched her mother storm out of the house toward her, eyes blazing. Clary must have looked a sight, her shirt torn and covered in dirt and blood, her pants grass stained and ripped at the hem were Simon had grabbed her, and her hair and skin covered in dirt and leaves. She smiled guiltily but Jocelyn's eyes were unforgiving. "What, in the name of the Angel, have you done?"


	18. First Strike

First Strike 

"I haven't done anything, Mother," Clary said calmly, rising up out of the dirt and grime and turning her most condemning look on Jocelyn. She crossed her arms, but a shiver was racing up and down her spine that betrayed her outrage.

"Don't cross your arms at me!" Jocelyn snapped, jerking Clary's arm free and giving her a sharp tug. She reached into the pocket of her cloak and revealed the note Clary had written. "This is all you leave me, _this_? You think a note is-is okay?"

"I think it summed up the situation well," said Clary, rubbing her arm where her mother had grabbed her. "You knew where I was and who I was with and what I was doing."

"And how, exactly, is what you were doing okay?" demanded Jocelyn. "Raising a vampire!"

"He's not a vampire, he's Simon!" Clary snarled back. "He's my best friend, and he was in trouble. I wasn't going to just sit by and wait for him to either die or rise. I wanted him to know I cared."

"And how well did that suit you?" Jace snapped, her eyes racing up and down Clary's clothing. "Was Simon _pleased _to see you here, waiting for him? Did he seem overjoyed by your presence?"

"He was mistaken-"

"He attacked you!" she cut across Clary. "I heard you scream, I could see the brawl from our house. What, Clary, _what_ was going through your head when you thought it'd be a good idea?"

"I told you," Clary growled furiously. "Simon is my friend."

"And I've told you, he's a vampire now."

"That's doesn't stop him being my friend." Clary felt tearing pricking at her eyes threatening to fall free.

"Attacking you does," Jocelyn shot back, and then she grabbed hold of Clary's arm, leveling Jace was a burning look that put an end to any argument he might had risen. "You're both coming home, _now_. The Angel only knows what he might have done."

"No!" Clary started thrashing about, trying to free herself from the iron grasp. "He can't help it, it's not his fault!"

"I know that, Clary, but he'll do it anyway!"

Jocelyn had turned about, and was looking at her daughter with a strange mixture of sympathy and anger. She wanted so much to be furious with Clary, but seeing her standing in the nightlight, face pale and eyes sparkling with tears, she couldn't bring herself to be angry. She dropped her eyes and bit her lip, regretting such bitter words when she had spent the last ten years, thinking she would never see Clary again. Clary's dry sob urged her on.

"Clary," she said after a beat. "Clary, I was scared for you, don't you understand? I understand that Simon is your friend and I understand you wanted to be there for him in his time of need, but don't you see how dangerous a new born vampire is? He could have hurt you, Clary; he could have killed you."

Clary lifted her gaze. "I couldn't leave him."

Jocelyn pulled Clary into her arms and cupped her cheeks with her shaking hands. "When instead you leave me? I could have lost you, Clary."

"Jace was with me," Clary shrugged, desperate to gain control over her emotions and stop the tears tricking down her face. "Jace wouldn't have let Simon hurt me; he even stopped Simon when he tried to attack me."

"Well, thank the Angel Jace was here," Jocelyn sighed, casting him a much warmer look than before. "But, Jace is still a young man himself, and what would you have done had Simon bitten Jace?"

Clary blinked furiously, trying to clear the tears. "I would have stayed."

"Clary," said Jocelyn, giving her a long, searching look. "You need to be more careful. This was a foolish thing to do, honorable, but foolish. And, Jace," she said swiftly, turning her green eyes on him, "I'm surprised you let her. I would have thought you'd care more about her safety than being here for a friend who doesn't know you from Adam. What were you thinking?"

Jace swallowed, having been preparing for Jocelyn's wrath. "Clary is a woman of single-minded drive, and I thought that trying to dissuade her would have been pointless. Better to join here and keep a close eye than forbid her to go."

"And you thought that wise?"

"I thought it reasonable, knowing Clary, and," he said quickly, before his nerve left him, "knowing her family. You Morgensterns have quite some nerve."

Jocelyn measured Jace's sincerity, but he seemed open and honest, and she shrugged tiredly. "As you'll have it. You two should come home with me, anyway, there are matter that must be discussed."

"Why does it seemed that all we do is have meetings?" Clary said loudly as her mother marched her and Jace across the fence and to their house. "It seems every few days we must gather for a talk, and it always ends the same: with Jonathan's evil and mine and Jace's impending doom."

"We must plan because there is no other alternative," Jocelyn ground out. "If it's any consolation, though, Luke will be there and it will be a short talk."

"Oh, joy," said Jace caustically. "What will be troubling over today?"

"We have word the Clave is planning their first attack in three days time," said Jocelyn evenly. "That means, by the end of the week, we could be leading Jonathan's army to its doom in Alicante. What we want to discuss with you is just some extra precautionary measures."

Clary was intrigued, to say the least, that the Clave was finally going to war. She and Jace exchanged a look and they passed into the kitchen where Luke was seated at the table. Clary thought he looked markedly different, dressed in his shirt sleeves with messy hair; he seemed a fair bit more strained than usual, but, when he saw Clary, he smiled warmly.

"Vampires?" asked Luke.

Clary shrugged and smiled recklessly. "Just Simon. What's this I hear about the Clave and war?"

Luke shook his head. "In three days time, five separate contingents of soldiers will be invading Idris. Be the end of the week, we should have a subsequent attack on Alicante. This means, of course, that we must more swiftly if we want a decisive victory. However, I was hoping to impress upon you two, what this means."

Clary and Jace sat, and Jace raised his eyebrows. "I thought we weren't allowed to go to war, so I can't imagine what danger we're in."

Luke scrunched his nose. "There have been rumors of…discontent about the city. I don't want to shock you but-"

"We know," said Clary quickly, and then told them about the fairy girl in the shop.

"Ah," Luke sighed. "That's not the way I would have wanted you to find out, but it's the truth, regardless. This attack could have quite a backlash, and we're a little concerned that the public might aim their anger at you."

"I had no idea it was just us," Jace said, not amused.

"It's not," said Jocelyn darkly. "Myself, Magnus, Luke, anyone who has any connection to Valentine and Jonathan are in the public's eye now. They are not happy with us, and they blame us for the war."

Clary pressed her lips together. "They can blame us all they want when it's over. Besides, it's not like it's their people who will be doing the bulk of the fighting. It's the shadowhunters who will be put through their paces."

"Well the shadowhunters aren't too pleased either," growled Luke. "They seem to think there aren't enough of our kind to sustain a war, and that we're signing our own death certificate by entering into this war."

"We can make more, can't we?" asked Jace, and then blushed faintly, smiling. "Well, aside from the usual way I mean. Doesn't the Clave have the Mortal Cup?"

"I'm afraid not," said Jocelyn softly. "Valentine had it last, so I can only assume it's still in the castle, now in Jonathan's possession. We would be on much better footing if we had the Cup, that's for sure."

"Why don't we go get it?" asked Clary, ideas bursting into her mind. "What if a small group of soldiers sneak into the castle for the Cup while Jonathan is distracted by the war? I mean, just because we stop his army doesn't mean the war is over, and there will still be months of fighting back before Jonathan surrenders. We'll need more shadowhunters."

"This is a discussion for another time," said Jocelyn firmly. "For now, let's not think on the future, but only on your safety, since you two seem so fond of risking it as is."

"What did you have in mind?" Jace asked, dreading what she was going to say. He had given up so much of his freedom with the curfew that he didn't want to lose anymore.

"Don't go out after mid-afternoon, and never go out alone," said Luke, giving them both hard looks. "Take the Lightwoods with you, take Maia with you, or, better yet, Magnus. Once you're home for the evening, stay in and lock the doors; we can think of a password to let each other in."

"I'll lock the doors," Clary sighed. "I've had plenty of practice before now."

"It'll be for your best," said Luke, and he smiled tiredly at Jace. "It'll only be a week at most before we have dealt our first true blow. From there, this war will move swiftly."

Jace frowned and took Clary's hand in his under the table. "I think that's what worries me most. Ah, well, I think I'll take my leave for the evening, Clary, would you care to join me?"

Clary nodded faintly and was about to leave when she paused and turned to face her Jocelyn. "I am sorry, Mother, for scaring you. I only meant to help a friend."

Jocelyn tipped her head. "I know that, Clary; sometimes, I just forget that you're not a little girl anymore, and you don't always need my protection."

Clary and Jace went to their room and prepared for bed; they both tossed aside their dirty, bloody shirts and scrubbed their skin clean. Clary beat Jace back to the bed, and she sat very still, waiting for him to return. When he entered the room and saw her perched on the bed, he checked on the spot. Carefully, he smiled at her, wondering if she was thinking about her brother again.

"Are you well, Clary?" he asked kindly.

"The Mortal Instruments," she said sharply. "Think what could have been done with them, Jace, if we had them. Think of the army the Clave could have had if we had not lost the Cup to Valentine?"

Jace joined her, greatly relieved she was thinking lighter thoughts. "It certainly could have served us well."

"We could have had an army," Clary thought distantly. "We could have had a force to be reckoned with, one that Jonathan would have feared."

"True, but we would have needed willing recruits," Jace mused. "Men and women who are okay with the idea of becoming shadowhunters, and you know as well as I that it's not an easy life."

"There are some." Clary's mind was on Isabelle, always feisty, always jumping at the chance to prove herself. She could see in her mind's eye how Isabelle would be if she were a shadowhunter: much the same, but armed with a sword, not just her temper. "I'm sure there are plenty of people who would want to better their standing in the world if given the opportunity."

"Yes, no doubt there are some mad enough," he chuckled and then tossed the covers carelessly about his waist. "So, aside from the eventful evening, I'd say today went well, wouldn't you?"

Clary smirked. "Did you see the look on my mother's face when she saw us sitting there? I think she could have curdled fresh milk."

Jace snorted and drew Clary against him. "You shouldn't tease your elders."

"Well, you're one to talk, the things you used to say to my father!"

Clary felt Jace arms constrict about her waist and draw her up against him. "It's completely different, he deserved those words."

Clary laughed and sank down in the blankets, ready for sleep.

* * *

Three days later, the army amassed by the Clave left the hidden city. It was a barrage of shadowhunters, werewolves, vampires, witches, and warlocks, exiting the city in a slow procession. Many had grim, even faces, their eyes blank and unseeing and they seemed suddenly to be soldiers from the old stories: tall, austere, and weighed down by the world. The inhabitants of the city who were not allowed, or had no wish, to leave bid them farewell, tossing flower petals on the street as they passed.

The army exited the city and passed into the early March chill, but it was a trifle to their own cold thoughts. Most of them were considering what lay ahead, what they were riding out to meet. Through the ruined city they marched, and through the silent forest, and along a river that took them closer and closer to Idris. Wherever they went, they saw signs of the darkness that had infected the land: trees that weren't springing to life, rivers drained of ice and water, and the animals, the animals had turned on their nature. The soldiers saw birds that were pushing their eggs out of the nest, snakes eating their own tails, foxes gnawing off their own paws.

For four days, they met no other human life and went unchecked. When at last they came to the first small village, they were shocked by the waste that they found. Most of the village was empty, and those that had stayed looked like the winter had almost finished them. Faces peeked at them from windows and doors snapped shut, but no one challenged them or sent word ahead to the palace that they were under attack.

Finally, the army came to the first true settlement, built on the bank of the only river that served as a thoroughfare for the merchants. It was well populated, and, from the trees that surrounded it, the soldiers could see countless chimney stacks emitting lines of smoke, walls and walls of houses, and the crooked streets. This was a city unaffected by the tumult of Jonathan's rise to power, perhaps they even flourished under it. Regardless, this was the city the Clave's army was going to strike.

They waited until night fell, till the moon was fully risen and the stars were bright in the sky. When it seemed all was quiet and peaceful and the citizens were deep in sleep, the army moved. It was the swiftness that won it for them, the swiftness and the surprise. Before any alarm bells could be wrung, the soldiers were within the walls and laying siege to city within. There was the usual chaos that followed an attack; men went for their swords, and women and children were sent into hiding, but it posed little trouble to the shadowhunters and Downworlders who marched within. Any opposition was quickly put down and the city was promptly evacuated. As soon as they were sure every person who could be accounted for was outside the city walls, the soldiers set it to flame.

Some questioned this tactic. Wouldn't it send a message to Jonathan that the Clave was unwilling to do harm to his people? Surely, if they were evacuating the cities first and then burning them down, they were opposed to harm? The soldiers themselves only whispered their doubts, but even those whispers reached the ears of superiors once in a while.

As soon as the city had gone up in flames properly, the army moved on. They had more cities to attack, more houses to burn, and more anger to inflame. They marched another day before they came to the next city, and it too was attacked at night, the people evacuated, and the city destroyed. From the second city they moved to the third and final, and key to their true attack. The third city was at the mouth of the river basin, and with it destroyed, valuable crops that should have been grown in the fertile soil and then shipped upstream were put to a stop. A famine would drive Jonathan to attack.

With the three cities aflame, the Clave's army turned tail and fled. By the time they reached the forest and the safety of its trees and shadows, news of the attack had reached Jonathan's ear. Rumors spread like wildfire among the towns and farms and little villages. Nothing could be confirmed, for no one but the lords and ladies were ever allowed in the palace now, and only slaves were kept to do the cooking, and neither of these groups of people were free to talk. But still, someone whispered something, some word escaped the fastness of Jonathan's palace, and word spread.

It was said King Jonathan was in a rage that would have made a dragon seem mild. It was said King Jonathan stormed about the castle, throwing curses and even spells wherever he went. It was said King Jonathan had vowed revenge on the name of his patron saint, the Lady Lilith, and that she would going to lead him to victory to over these demon children. For that's what they were, these soldiers who made pacts with werewolves, vampires, witches, and warlocks; they were the children of demons, and it was why they spread fire wherever they went. It was said King Jonathan had promised his followers that he would soon summon an army unmatched, and he would march on these demon people and slaughter them, and there would be rivers of blood, and the lords would wear cloaks trimmed in werewolf furs, and necklaces made of vampire fangs.

But these were just rumors, and though they were fanciful and exciting, very few people believed that they were true. The citizens of Idris had spent many years under the rule of Valentine, and he had been a grim but honest man. He fought battles with swords and shields, not the power of a strange army never seen, but always present.

There was, however, among the citizens of Idris a sudden revolutionizing religious movement. For countless years, since the dawn of Idris, the men, women, and children had been reared on stories of the great Angel, who had come and mixed his blood with the chosen and begotten the shadowhunter race. The Angel was the name on the breath of every dying man, and the prayer in the heart of every woman. Now, though, there were whispers that the Angel had betrayed them and his might was not enough to overcome the might of the demon-people and their evil monster companions. Slowly but surely, the citizens of Idris turned to the savior of the lords: the Lady Lilith.

* * *

"They're returned!" cried a voice, jerking Clary from her slumber. She sat up, tossing her hair out of her face and stared confused, at the window of her room. Beside her, Jace rolled over and muttered something about ducks. "Rejoice, rejoice for our soldiers return victorious from their battles!"

_Returned from battle?_ Clary wondered and then her memories burst into life.

"Jace! Jace wake up, the soldiers have returned!" Clary launched herself out of bed and began tossing aside clothing, looking for a pair of pants and shirt. "We have to go out and meet them!"

"Meet them for what?" asked Jace lazily, sitting up a bit and admiring the vision he had of a half-naked Clary. "It's not as though they will have news of the outside world. Come, stay in bed with me, the sheets are so warm and my arms so inviting."

"Jace, get up," Clary ordered, and shrugged on a shirt that she quickly belted into place. "I want to see how the army fared after the attack, and, besides, the Clave is going to be chomping at the bit for news; that means that you can bet there will be another gathering here tonight for the counter plan."

"But why so _early_?" Jace whined, and Clary swatted at him.

"Get up now, you layabout, or I'll fetch Isabelle and see if she can't get a rise from you," Clary threatened, her eyes glinting dangerously.

"By the Angel, no!" Jace cried, but still rolled over into his pillow.

"By the Angel, yes," she responded. "I'm going to go wash my face, by the time I get back, you had better have some clothes on."

Jace flipped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. It wasn't that he didn't want to show support of the soldiers. Hell, he and Clary had taken so much bad publicity lately among those families whose men and women had gone to battle that he couldn't afford not to be seen showing them respect, but it still work in him a deep bitterness. Among many of the names Jace had heard thrown at him and Clary was _coward_. It was thought by many that Jace and Clary were too afraid to go to battle themselves, and so instead, would watch while other died fighting a battle they started. It made no difference that the people _knew _Clary and Jace weren't allowed to go to battle, as they were still too you; they were still called cowards.

_I have to put up with this nonsense just for the sake of appearances, _Jace thought tiredly to himself. _What I wouldn't give for just one day in the country; just me and Clary and a few horses to ride out on…_But the thought of Clary stirred him to move.

Jace rose up and slowly sifted through his clothes, removing a pair of pants and a lose shirt. He was just pulling his head through the hole when Clary returned. She smiled at the sight of his golden head emerging through the fabric. He winked roguishly at Clary. "See, good wife, I've gotten myself up and about, no need to go for Isabelle."

"Perhaps," Clary mused, "but Isabelle promised Max to take him to see the soldiers, and Alec is well enough to walk about now, so Magnus is taking him to the city. Isabelle and the rest will be here in a few minutes."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Well, I guess there's nothing else for it. Let's go down. Is your mother home?"

"She was gone before the sun rose," Clary sighed as they passed down the stairs and wrapped themselves in their cloaks. "I suppose the Clave is already in session, and she and Luke will be there till well past curfew."

"I wonder how they stand it," Jace said as they left the house and waited on the stoop for the Lightwoods and Magnus, "going to all these meetings, I mean. They are planning their own separate war against Jonathan, and yet, there they are, sitting in a council with the Clave."

"Their war isn't one that is fought with swords and armies," Clary said softly as a ground of excited women passed by. "They have to be a bit more clever. If the Clave fails to stop Jonathan, they have nowhere to turn. It will fall on us to pick the Clave back up before Jonathan can strike."

"I don't see why we have to be cleaning up after the Clave," Jace muttered, and then waved as Alec emerged from the house, using a walking stick to support himself, but looking very much in better spirits.

"Because our cause is the same; so long as the Clave is fighting Jonathan, we are allies." Clary and Jace went to join the Lightwoods. Max was ecstatic to see the soldiers and kept begging Jace to pick back up his lessons.

"I want to be the best!" he cried, dancing around Jace's feet. "All the other boys in my class can be jealous of me."

"Where's Magnus?" Clary asked, peeking at the closed door. "He's coming, isn't he?"

"No," said Alec. "The Clave wanted him in a meeting, but he declined saying he was sick. He's actually with Simon, who's coming around nicely, I might add. Anyway, Magnus couldn't be seen in public when he's supposed to be sick in bed."

"Simon's well?" asked Clary sharply.

"Better every day," Isabelle said fondly. "I've spoken with him a few times since the change, and he says he feels awful about attacking you and Jace, and he wants to make amends as soon as Magnus thinks it's safe for you to be around him, and he asked me not think poorly of him for losing control." Isabelle laughed. "Why he'd say that, I'll never know; he was a newborn vampire for the Angel's sake! I thought him very well mannered, and I told him as much."

Jace and Alec both rolled their eyes but Clary smiled at the thought of her friend. "He was raised well," was all she said.

The small group made their way through town and down to the street where the soldiers were streaming by. Max was beside himself, watching the rune lights glance off their armor and swords, and seeing the steely looks on the faces of the men. He begged Alec to sit on his shoulders, but as Alec couldn't support him, Jace offered instead. Isabelle smiled fondly at Jace and then leaned over to Clary to whisper in her ear.

"Jace is very good with children, you know," she said, smiling wickedly. "Something you'd like to share?"

Clary blushed. "I think not," she said with great dignity.

"Yeah, well, you just let me know when you need a nurse maid, all right?"

"I could offer you the same, what with all the eyes you make at the men in this town," but Clary couldn't keep and straight face and women dissolved into giggles.

"This is why we have such a bad reputation, Clary," Jace smirked. "Look at you, laughing at this right and proper ceremony."

"It's your reputation not mine," Clary sniffed once she regained control of herself.

"I knew Valentine was just trying to palm you off," Jace snorted, and they all lost control, even Alec who was usually very conservative.

They had stood a way back, so that when the parade was over they were among the first to leave. As they made their way back home, Jace spotted a few unfriendly eyes and bitter smiles, and he hurried them back to Jocelyn's house. When they reached the street where they lived, Alec checked on the spot, shocked to find Magnus standing outside the house pacing.

"Magnus," he said, hobbling up. "What is it?"

"I've just had a long talk with Simon."

"And so?" asked Jace at once.

"The situation is much more dire than we thought," Magnus muttered. "The war with Jonathan is at a tipping point, and we can't have dissent from within. If we're going to win this war, we must all be united under on banner."

"We're not?" Clary asked suspiciously.

Magnus looked grimmer than Clary had seen in many years. "My dear, if we were any more removed, we might as well being living in different cities altogether."


	19. A Slim Chance

**Hello! So, now that both my current fictions are winding down, I've begun work on yet another Mortal Instruments fiction. It's completely independent of anything I've written before now. If you enjoy my writing style, it's called From the Diary of a Damned Soul, and I hope to get the first chapter out shortly. **

A Slim Chance

Clary, Jace, and the Lightwoods were ushered into the house swiftly by Magnus, who was muttering angrily. He led them up a set of worn, wooden stairs and into a library where Clary was happily surprised to see Simon seated in a large, stuffed chair. Upon seeing her enter, Simon jumped to his feet and began stuttering his apologies; Clary, rushed over to him before Jace had even a chance to snatch her back, and she threw herself at him.

"Simon!" she cried, drawing a deep breath. "Are you alright? Have you been getting better adapted to blood? Are you hurt?"

Simon glanced up at Jace, as if checked to see that it was okay to be so close to his wife. Jace shrugged helpless, knowing that trying to separate the two would only end with Clary refusing to speak to him. "I'm well, Clary, very well; Magnus has been taking good care of me, helping me with the cravings, and Isabelle has been a great comfort to me while I recover."

"Of course she has," Clary sighed, and she shot a grateful look at Isabelle. "I'm so _sorry _I haven't been here to see you, but my mother was adamant you needed time to adjust, and what with all this public outrage I was just so caught up-"

"I don't blame you, Clary," Simon said gently. "You have plenty enough to be busy with beside watching me drink blood; besides, I heard what you did for me the night I rose…" He looked down, and Clary suspected that if he could, he would have been blushing. "But, speaking of the public outrage, there are some things we need to discuss."

Clary let go of Simon regretfully and pulled back to study his face. He was very serious. "What's happened now?"

"Simon happened," Magnus muttered, pushing through the small crowd in the door. "I've been talking with Simon over how he came to be this way, and it turns out he ran astray of a few unhappy vampires out in the city."

Clary eyes met Simon's. "What did they want with you?"

"I am your friend," Simon said, dropping his gaze. "They knew I was your friend, as well as Magnus's and the Lightwoods, and they blamed you lot for the war."

"So they took it out on you?" Jace demanded, his eyes darkening. "To get revenge on us they attacked you. Why?"

"Because they're not stupid," Simon answered, and looked down at his feet. "No one is going to cross you, Jace; you're too good a warrior. They could have attacked Clary, but she's too well trained, and she has you as a body guard."

Jace felt a little pride that the knowledge that there were people so afraid of him, they wouldn't risk harming his wife. However, the sight of Clary's pale face, watching Simon, pushed those thoughts away. "This is all because of Jonathan then? They think that this whole war is for Jonathan to get revenge at the lot of us?"

"It seems that way," Magnus said softly, making them all jump. "And how can you really blame them? For the last ten years or so, this city has been kept a secret, safe and tucked away beneath the ground. Then, Clary and you turn up, and six months later, we're at the brink of a very real war. It's not a coincidence, either, and you know that."

Clary cringed away from Simon. "Jonathan doesn't just want us. He'll want to destroy the shadowhunters before they can challenge his army. As soon as he was king in his own right he would have done this anyway."

"Maybe," agreed Magnus. "However, how many people here do you think actually know that? As far as the general public is concerned, you brought Jonathan onto them."

"No matter what I do, this would have been my fault!" Clary cried, storming away from Simon and snatching up Jace's hand. "Had I stayed in Idris, I would have been married to Jonathan, and I would have been his queen when he did this."

"_Excuse me_?" Simon asked loudly, his eyes boring into Clary. "Did you say you were going to be his _queen_?"

"I told you," Clary whispered, suddenly shrinking down to the girl she had been, "that Jonathan was obsessed with me. It's because he thinks I'm supposed to be his-his wife or something." Clary shook her head as if it was nonsense, but Simon could see how much it upset her.

"I suppose he must really detest you then?" Simon shot as Jace.

"I'm not his favorite person, that's for sure," Jace whistled, and kissed Clary's hair. "Regardless, it's not our fault that Jonathan is coming for the city. He would have come anyway. We're just the reward he gets for winning." Jace pressed his lips together at the thought of being treated as some reward.

"It doesn't matter," Magnus sighed. "All that matters is how the public is taking it, and that's not well. We're going to have to warn Jocelyn the moment she gets back; perhaps she should look to lodging with Luke."

"Luke?" Clary asked sharply. "What's he got to do with it?"

"He's a packmaster," Magnus answered. "That means that if Jocelyn is his mate, she'll have the protection of the entire pack. They have to guard their own-"

"His mate?" Clary said loudly. "Jocelyn isn't Luke's-well, they're not-"

"You really think that?" Magnus asked, his eyebrows raised. "Clary, I'm going to be very honest with you, and I want you to take this as best you can, but where do you think Jocelyn spends half her time in this city?"

Clary's eyes narrowed at Jace's side. "She's with the Clave."

"Yes, but not every hour she's gone." Magnus was looking at Clary sympathetically. "Your mother is a beautiful woman, and Luke is a fine man. He was a shadowhunter once, too, you know. You're mother is allowed to love someone."

"_Luke_?" Clary felt anger bubbling up. "Luke was _my _friend! He's been guarding me for years before he even knew her."

"Why do you think Luke would abandon his people and his position within the Clave to go and watch you?" Magnus asked, his voice surprisingly gentle for what he was saying. "I can assure you, Clary, only a deep love for your mother sent him to Idris for that many years to watch you."

Jace felt Clary's body shaking, and he understood how bitter she was. She had begun to see Luke as a father figure in her life; he was the man who had guarded her since childhood, he had been there to see her tucked into bed every night, he had helped her escape in the end. To know that it had all been at the command of the woman Clary hated must have been disconcerting. He drew her against his chest to calm her down.

"It was for you both," Jace said in her ear. "Luke may have went for Jocelyn, but he stayed for you."

Clary gave herself a shake and decided she would speak to her mother about it later; now there were many more pressing matters. "Will Jace and I have to join the werewolves?"

"It might be safer," Magnus mused. "Though, I suppose there is room for you here too. If you're so opposed to leaving again you might make yourself a room here."

"Thank you," Clary said stiffly. "What do you think our next move should be?"

"Honestly, I haven't got one." Magnus looked extremely displeased with this statement and threw himself into a chair. Alec, sensing his discontent, went to join him. "There're so many pieces we're trying to connect at once. Our men have returned from war and the demons march on us as we speak, the people are furious, and our army isn't ready for the fight. How do we reconcile these differences?"

"What's the biggest of our problems?" Isabelle asked. "If we can solve one, then the others should fall into place, correct?"

"That would probably be the army of demons that's about to storm Alicante," Magnus snorted.

"Why is it a problem? We have a plan for this," Isabelle said thoughtfully.

"The army isn't in the best of shape," Magnus muttered. "Though we didn't lose many to the attack, they are all weary beyond measure from the march. If we're going to meet these demon armies head on, we'll have to have an army for it."

"We just need a bigger army," Isabelle agreed. "The Clave can recruit more."

"Recruit from where?" Alec asked, seeing where Magnus's thoughts were going. "The people are furious with the Clave because they think they're been lied to."

"So we need a more sympathetic public," Simon said, staring at the bright veins now standing out starkly against his pale skin. "We need more people willing to go to war. Where do we find them?"

"We don't," Magnus said grimly. "The Clave has all its soldiers enlisted; the werewolves who will fight have signed up; every warlock and witch will be there, thanks to me, I might add; the vampires have conceded to help. This city has given everything it can to prepare, and even after this attack, the war isn't over."

"We need the Mortal Cup," Clary said, as if coming to a conclusion. "Magnus, you knew the Mortal Cup was still in Idris, didn't you?"

"I certainly didn't have the ability to steal it from Valentine."

"I'm not saying you did, but you knew it was there?" Clary was watching him closely now, hoping he would say what she needed. "You could tell someone how to find it?"

"Last I knew, your father was keeping it tucked away in his private study," Magnus said slowly, his brow furrowed. "Any particular reason you're interested in the Cup?"

"If we had it, we could make more shadowhunters," said Clary as if this should have been obvious. "If we have more shadowhunters in our army we would a much greater threat to the Jonathan. I think we need to steal the Cup back."

Alec's mouth had dropped, but Isabelle's eyes were glowing fiercely. "Anyone could be made a shadowhunter then?"

"You'd have to be a child still," said Magnus quickly. "Eighteen or younger, mind. But, yes, if we have the Cup, we could potentially amass quite an army. Are you offering to go after it, Clary?"

"You only have to tell me where it is," she said breathlessly, but behind her, Jace was stirring. "Jace, you could come with me; you're always saying you want to help out in this war. This is our chance, Jace! While the Clave and Jonathan are concentrating on this war, we can sneak back into Idris and get it."

"Yes, we can sneak back in," agreed Jace, "but can we get the Cup back to Alicante? I'm sure Jonathan will be guarding the Cup; even if he can't use it to make new servants, he'll be wanting to keep anything powerful nearby."

"We need it though," Clary pressed, and looked to Magnus for support. "How else can this war be won if not with the Cup?"

Magnus shot Jace a sad look. "She's right, you know, Jace. This war can be fought, but I don't think it can be won without help. If we could make more shadowhunters it would be a better chance."

Jace considered what Magnus had said. Getting the Cup would certainly help them win this war against Jonathan, but there was an incredible risk. Entering Idris was dangerous enough, but entering Idris when Jonathan was in a foul mood, when Jonathan was preparing for war, and bringing Clary with him, was asking for trouble. He enjoyed the idea of being an active member of the Clave once more, but at the risk to his wife? Jace flinched away from the idea. What if Clary was hurt? What if Jonathan caught them sneaking around his palace?

"As much as I am for bringing the Cup back to Alicante and making more shadowhunters, I don't think I want to risk you, Clary." Jace met her powerful gaze with one of his patient ones. "If we went back to Idris, I would run the risk of losing you to Jonathan. You know how he feels about you Clary."

"I'm willing to risk Jonathan for our cause," Clary said solemnly. "What's the point in fighting this war if we can't win? You know Jonathan; he'll meet us blow for blow, force for force. We need to have an army ready to meet him."

"We'll think about it," Jace finally said, seeing how attached Clary was to the idea. "We'll consider it, Clary, but you must understand why I have no desire to return to Idris-even if it is for our cause."

Clary and Magnus exchanged a long look, and Clary was already thinking of some way she could steal into the castle. She knew enough of the secret passages, enough of the back ways, that she could find the Cup and escape Jonathan's reach. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that it was a terrible jeopardy, but she didn't care, not when it seemed the entire city of Alicante was resting on her shoulders.

"We will talk another time"_, _she decided. "So, Simon, how have you been since…well, since you woke up?"

Simon sensed the change in the conversation and thought better of mentioning it to Clary. "I've been getting on well. It's a bit odd, you know, drinking blood. It tastes strangely satisfying."

"But you've been happy?"

Simon would never admit it, but becoming a vampire had opened one door for him he never thought he could have as a mere human. Isabelle had been a reminder of everything he could never be, a woman so far beyond him; he had considered her almost a lost cause. When he'd woken up and found Isabelle sitting by his bed side, a bowl of blood in her hands, and a look of such concern and such curiosity, he'd been compelled to speak to her. She had smiled coyly at him, smiled in a way she had only smiled at those other men. Simon realized she must have thought him intriguing, and he was more than happy with the attention.

"I've been very happy," Simon said conversationally. "Magnus and the Lightwoods have been very welcoming to me, and they've been taking very good care of me."

"Have you had any…urges?" Clary asked tremulously.

Simon smirked. "Well, I have been much more tired than usual and I can smell a person's body about a mile away, but aside from that, I'm much the same."

"Do you still eat food?" piped up Max.

Simon scrunched up his. "No…no I don't think I could do that. It actually smells rather revolting."

Clary was about to say that is was impossible to find her cooking revolting when there was a very loud pounding on the door, followed by the sound of the door being thrown open. Clary and Jace shared a very short look, and they knew that it was Jocelyn, and they knew whatever words she had on her lips were going to be bad news.

"We have company," Magnus whistled, and after a moment, Jocelyn's shadow crossed the hall and she stood in the doorway to the library. "Good afternoon, Jocelyn."

"What's so good about it?" Jocelyn said tersely and her eyes found Simon. "Ah, Simon, you're up and about I see. Magnus, I have just come back from the Clave and we have demons on the move."

"And this is a surprise?" asked Magus sardonically.

"They will be here within a day," she said quickly. "The city is going to be the site of a massacre, ours and theirs."

"Do you have a suggestion, Mother?" asked Clary, dreading what she might say.

"For you? Yes." Jocelyn's eyes darted over to Jace's and he knew whatever she was about to say was not going to sit will with him. "Tomorrow, you, Jace, and the Lightwoods will go into the cellar beneath my home and wait there until the attacks are over."

"A cellar?" Isabelle looked horrified.

"I have just enough pull with the Clave to leave them and come and warn you. We'll go into the city and get provisions, then you'll go into hiding."

Clary bit her lip. "Can Simon come with us?"

"No," she said swiftly, then shot an apologetic look at Simon. "I'm sorry, Simon, but you're still very young and vampires go. Besides, if something were to happen, you would not be in much danger. Demons don't usually attack vampires unprovoked."

Isabelle looked outraged. "I'm not going into hiding and having Simon left undefended."

"Isabelle-"

"I'll be fine," Simon said slowly to Isabelle. She faced him with a shocked look and he shrugged helplessly. "Jocelyn is right, isn't she? Of all the people a demon would be likely to go after, I don't think it's going to be a new born vampire. I'm not really all that interesting to them. You should hide."

Isabelle looked mutinous and Clary was prepared for a long argument, but Jace sighed with relief. He had been dreading having to split Clary and Simon, especially after his being attacked, but to hear Simon tell them to go would make it a bit easier to coax her into hiding. Simon caught Jace's eye and nodded minutely; he and Jace had come to at least one agreement.

"But, if you're out there and those people come back-"

"Well, what more can they do?" Simon laughed. "They already made me a vampire. I guess they could kill me, but it wouldn't get them very far since, well, I'm already dead."

"This isn't funny, Simon," Isabelle said sternly, but Simon was looking at her with a smile playing on his lips. "Simon, you could be hurt!"

"You more likely than me," Simon replied, and stood, though he seemed a little weak in the act. "If there is war soon, we should go now and get provisions for you."

It seemed that Simon had put an end to any argument, because Isabelle gave up the fight. Without her opinioned voice, Clary didn't seem to have the nerve to keep pushing for him. Magnus offered to escort the small group to the city proper for food. The city had not yet heard the news that they would soon be under attack, so there was still a celebration in the air. No one seemed to care that a group composed of shadowhunters, humans, vampire, and warlock were moving swiftly through the city for food and drink. Store keepers glanced once when they came in for food and drink, but were happy enough to make a sale, after all, the soldiers had only just returned victorious.

Piled with provisions, they returned to Jocelyn's home where she was waiting, more like their warden than their protector. She hurried them in and set Clary to gathering up her things and moving them into the cellar. Jace offered to help the Lightwoods move but Simon had already beaten Jace to the queue. It was like they were burying their lives away, and maybe they were; none of them knew how long they were going to be tucked underground. While they moved, Magnus found Jace.

"Clary said stealing the Mortal Instruments was a conversation for another time, but this seems to be the last time we're going to get for a while." Magnus watched the play of emotions on Jace's face. "I think Clary was onto something, and we have an opportunity coming."

"You mean the attack on the city?" Jace asked carefully not looking at Magnus. A little ways away, Jocelyn was talking at Clary, trying to kindly convince her to hide. "An interesting opportunity, I'll admit."

"In the confusion we will have ample time for you to sneak you," Magnus pushed on. "Jocelyn, Luke, the members of the Clave, they will be above the city preparing for a fight. No one will be here to stop you from leaving the city by any of the many passages you know and making for Idris."

Jace considered the words; he _did_ know a number of secret ways out of the city. If they moved fast, it might only be a ten or fifteen minute walk from Jocelyn's house to the nearest exit. They could be outside of Alicante in an hour, and heading for Jonathan and the Instruments. Still, that nagging fear that Clary might get hurt held him back.

"Even if I could get us out, we run the risk of being caught in the fray," Jace pointed out. "If we leave too early, we'll meet an army of demons; if we leave too late, we'll be trapped in the city in the middle of battle."

"It's a slim chance, I'll admit, but a chance we should take," Magnus pressed. "We need the Cup to make an army. You're a man of war, Jace, and you know how fruitless this battle will be. We can win here, yes, but that doesn't mean we have a chance against Jonathan after. He will be able to summon more demons, he will just make himself a new army. We are bound by our mortality."

Jace ran a hand through his hair; Magnus was right, this war wouldn't go the way they wanted. "When Jocelyn returns she'll see we've gone; she'll be furious."

"And that is a problem to you?" Magnus was smiling a little to himself.

"I made her a promise, on the Angel, that I would help her with Clary." Jace felt that twinge of guilt that he had betrayed his wife. "This certainly is going to count as breaking that oath."

"It's not breaking the oath if what you're doing is going to save Clary's life. If we use the Cup to fight Jonathan, you save her." Magnus saw Clary cock a hip at her mother and begin arguing. "My, my how those two get on. I can help you, Jace; I can make sure there are horses waiting, with food and weapons."

"Food and weapons will only get us so far," hedged Jace. "Even if we get back to Idris and into the palace, there's still Jonathan to deal with. I don't care what Clary says and what she pretends, she's scared of him. And, frankly, my wife has been scared enough."

Magnus had to hand it to Jace; he really did love Clary. It was oddly refreshing for him to see a man who loved Clary simply for who she was when he had only known men to want her for her position or her beauty for many years. "Admirable, but you and I both know there is more to your life than your love. You are a shadowhunter, Jace, and so is Clary; you two have a duty to the people, not just of Alicante, but to this world! You swore your oaths when you began training; you fight for the greater good."

"I know that!" Jace hissed passionately. "Don't you think I've been debating with myself for months about it? By the Angel, I have been having nightmares over it; I owe my life to these people and I find myself hiding! I want to help…but I _love _Clary."

"Then take heart in the knowledge that Clary wants to come with you." Magnus placed his hands gently on Jace's shoulder; he had rarely offered the young man any affection. "This battle needs to be fought and won, or it won't matter how terrified Clary is of Jonathan-he will come for her."

Jace held up his hands. "Alright, well, let's just say that Clary and I succeed and we bring back the Cup. What will the Clave do with it then?"

Magnus frowned. "It's true that the Clave hasn't always worked in the favor of the people, but ultimately, they will put the Cup to good use. They really don't have a choice."

Jace felt his gaze slink over to where Clary was storming away from her mother; it seemed those two would always be at odds. He waved her over as Jocelyn turned on her heels and went to her study to gather up papers to return to the Clave. Clary, sensing some of the seriousness that hung in the air, drew up slowly.

"You two are looking glum," she said, smiling for Jace's benefit. "What news now?"

"Magnus thinks we should go after the Cup, and this attack is going to be the perfect disguise," said Jace without preamble. As he suspected, Clary looked pleased.

"Well, Magnus, at least, has some sense about himself," Clary sniffed. "When would we go?"

Magnus looked thoughtful. "This evening, the shadowhunters and such will be going into the city. They expect the demon armies to be arriving when night falls tomorrow; between now and then, the warlocks and witches will be circling the city, preparing the spells."

"So when?" Clary pressed, eyes glowing.

"Tomorrow in the late afternoon," Magnus said after a moment. "The shadowhunters will be out of the city, and I will have been gone long enough to gather us all the supplies you'll need for the trip."

Clary and Jace looked between each other, and Jace knew, just by the look in her eyes, that she was ready to leave Alicante. "You know how I feel about it, Jace."

Jace sighed. "The Angel knows how you feel about!"

Clary reached up and took Jace's face in her hand. "I know you're scared for me, I know you think that if I return to Idris Jonathan will-will get his hands on me and take me back. I won't lie to you, I'm horrified of seeing him again, but I'm more scared of us losing this war." Jace tried to look away, but Clary's gaze was too powerful. "If we go, and we fail, then Jonathan will take us in the end. If we go and we succeed, then we might win this war. The only thing to be lost is innocent lives, Jace."

"I wanted to get you _away_ from Idris," Jace pressed. "Think of the struggle we had the first time around. We'll have to do that all over again."

"I'm ready to meet Jonathan again," Clary promised. "I came here and I found myself. The months we've had together have been enough to teach me who I am. I am woman who wants to see this darkness end, I am a woman who isn't afraid of the past, and I am a woman who knows not to feel guilt or shame over who I am."

Jace kissed Clary's palm. "Okay, Clary, we'll go."

"I'll protect you," she promised, and Jace smiled down at her.

"What are you lot plotting?" Isabelle laughed, joining them, but the moment she was within their circle, she sensed the tension between them. Her eyes roved from one to the other, searching.

"Nothing-"

Clary cut across Jace. "We're going after the Cup."

Though Jace looked thoroughly shocked that Clary had told Isabelle, Clary couldn't care. Isabelle was exactly the sort of person Clary wanted to have with her when she went to battle: brave, thoughtful, and driven. If Isabelle went with them, Clary knew she would push them to find the Cup; she had that unquenchable thirst to prove herself. Isabelle wanted to be someone in this world, and here was how she could start.

"You are?" Isabelle breathed, her eyes sparkling. "Well, I'm coming with you, then."

"Isabelle, it's not safe," Jace warned.

"Oh, but it is for you?" She fixed Jace with a burning look. "I was with you in Idris before, and I was there when Clary and I fled. I think I have proved myself."

"This is very dangerous," Magnus told Isabelle, trying to be gentle. "Someone has to stay and look after Max, too."

"Max is going to be locked in the cellar with enough food for five people; there's no safer place for him to be. Besides, he'll only be alone for, at the most, two days."

"The more people we take along, the more obvious we'll be," Jace said. "This is going to be risk enough without making an announcement to Jonathan that we're on our way."

"I know the ways of the castle, though," Isabelle whined. "I was a slave there, and I know all the back stairs we took, and I know how to escape the castle from almost anywhere, and I know where all the best hiding places are."

"It's still not safe-"

"You can't stop me coming," Isabelle said with finality. "You two can go on your way and try and leave me behind, but you forget, I was a farmer here. I know all the little passages we used when we harvested the plants aboveground. You can leave, but I'll just follow."

It was a valid threat, actually. Jace glanced at Clary, and saw that Clary was looking pleased with Isabelle's argument. She _certainly _wanted Isabelle to come along. Jace sighed and rubbed his tired eyes; this adventure was turning into a mess and they hadn't even left the city.

"Alright, you can come, but I'm not going to be watching your back through it all. Be ready for a fight; I'm sure we'll be meeting someone's blade before the trip is out."


	20. Running the Shadow

Running the Shadow

"As soon as the last remnants of the demons are gone, I'll come for you," Jocelyn promised, trying to catch Clary's eye, but she refused. "I know this seems unfair now, but it's really the only way to protect you."

Luke, at Jocelyn's side, placed a hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed. "It's not that you could change it if you wanted to, Jocelyn, and Clary and Jace know that. The Clave has rules, and they would recognize Clary and Jace in a heartbeat."

Clary wanted to be mad at Luke, but, for some reason, she just couldn't bring herself to it. Instead, she lowered her gaze and bit her lip. "We understand," said Jace simply.

"I'm glad to hear it," Luke said, and Clary realized that she was about to exploit Luke's trust in the worst way. "You'll understand once this battle is over why we wanted to keep you safe."

"How long do we have to stay down there?" Max asked loudly, eyeing the stairs that descended into the dark warily. "I don't like the dark; they used to lock us in the dark if we were bad in the palace!"

"It'll be alright, Max," Alec said, and he picked his brother up. "We'll all be down there with you: me, Isabelle, Clary, and Jace."

At the mention of Jace's name, Max's head swiveled about, and he seemed to realize he had been admitting to being afraid of the dark in front of him. His cheeks went a little pink. "I don't care that you're all there, I just don't want to be stuck in a cellar for a few days."

"It won't be _days_, Max," Isabelle sighed. "It'll be two days at most. Now, stop whining and get in there; the sooner we get comfortable the soon it'll be over." Max scowled, but Isabelle gave him a sharp look and Alec placed him down on the ground and he clambered into the cellar.

Alec was about to follow him, but paused, turned to face Magnus, and said softly, "Can I talk to you privately, Magnus?"

Magnus tipped his head graciously. "Of course, Alec," he said and gestured to the side of Jocelyn's house that was out of sight and sound.

"Well, I'm for the cellar, I suppose," Isabelle sighed, and, to everyone's surprise, including Simon's, reached out and drew him into a very warm embrace. "I'll see you in a few days, Simon, won't I?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he stammered, looking down, astonished at his luck. "I'll probably just stand guard over the house, since I'm not fit enough to go to battle."

"That's a good idea, Simon," Jocelyn said, casting him a wane smile.

Isabelle trounced down the stairs calling Max's name; this left Clary and Jace alone with Jocelyn and Luke. Clary was debating whether she was willing to speak to her mother, so Jace took over while she struggled with her words. "I hope everything goes well tonight and tomorrow. May the Angel watch over you."

"And you," agreed Luke. "Keep a close watch over Clary, will you? Though, I suppose, you're very used to this already." He smiled at Jace and shook his hand.

Jocelyn looked beseechingly at Clary, but she still had her face down. Jace, though, thought that even though Clary and her mother were still not seeing eye to eye, she shouldn't let her mother go to war without some sort of goodbye. He gave her hand a gentle pinch and nodded a little toward Jocelyn.

Clary lifted her chin, and though she meant to come off haughty and formal, the sight of her mother looking at her with those sad eyes smashed her defenses to bits. Besides, if she really did go through with her plan to rescue the Mortal Cup, she would be returning to Idris, and to Jonathan's power, and she didn't want to go without letting her mother know she had, on some small level, forgiven her. "Good luck, Mother; I will be thinking of you. Please… please do come back; it would be a sore loss to me if you were…"

Jocelyn smiled faintly and, before her nerve lost her, leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her daughter's cheek. "I have every intention of being back here in two days time. Do not fear for me, Clary."

Jace kissed Clary's cheek and pointed to the cellar. "Come along, Clary, into the breach."

Clary rolled her eyes dramatically. "Just don't let me fall face first along the stairs, will you?"

Jace helped Clary find her footing as was about to go down after her but paused and then cast Jocelyn one last, encouraging look. "I'll keep my eyes on her, I'll make sure she's safe."

"I know you will," she said, and then spun on her heel and left, Luke trailing her.

Jace sank down into the cellar and saw that Clary and Isabelle had worked together to light a few torches and number of witchstones. The combination of yellow and green light was disconcerting, and Jace shielded his eyes, reaching out his hand to feel in the dark. His knee hit something he knew as a person and he drew back until he bumped a wall.

"Sorry," he said, looking around.

It was Max, and he was frowning up at Jace seriously. "You should look where you're going."

"Max!" Isabelle cried.

"Well, he should."

Jace held up his hand before Isabelle could have at him. "I'm not offended, Isabelle, and you're right, Max, I really should be looking. It's a little hard down here, though…"

"Give me your hand," Clary whispered, and in the strange light, Jace saw her figure approach. She reached out and stroked his arm before taking his hand in hers. "Here, we're putting beds together in the alcove over here."

Jace let Clary lead him across the room, and by the time he was seated on the small pile of blankets, the room was in clear focus. The cellar beneath Jocelyn's house was large and spacious, one wall covered in makeshift shelving that was home to a number of canned goods, aged wine, and their food provisions. The other walls were rough, compact cement blocks, and the floor was a sheet of dirt covered in boards of woods. There was no hearth, no woodstove, no lighting; it was completely open, and their wash room was a small section that had some backed shelves separating it from the rest of cellar. Their beds were in a corner where the ceiling dipped down and angled sharply until it hit the ground; Jace worried he might hit his head if he sat up too fast.

"Is there room for everyone?" Jace asked, eyeing the small corner where they would be sleeping.

Clary shrugged. "We'll have to share beds is all. Besides," and here, her voice dipped so Max wouldn't hear. "it's not that we're going to be here for that long. Magnus is going to set us up to leave soon."

"What should we do with Max?" Jace asked, eyeing the boy who was now jumping around Alec who had just arrived. "I don't care how much he begs, Max _cannot _come with us. This boy is staying her no matter how much Isabelle begs or pleads."

Clary smiled, biting her lips at the same time. "I'm not suggesting it, Jace. No, Isabelle and I spoke, and we think we'll slip him a sleep tonic, and then have Simon come down and stay with him while we're gone."

"Where are we getting the sleep tonic?"

Clary's eyes danced. "What do you think Alec had to speak to Magnus about?"

"You're a devious little minx, aren't you?" Jace asked. "Do you think Simon is really going to let you go off back to Idris? I know I swore I wouldn't poke fun at him anymore, but he's as much your guard dog as Luke was; he's going to be very opposed to you risking your life."

"I won't lie," Clary hedged, "he might be very vocal about it, but I trust he's going to agree with me in the end. I won't let him stop me, leastways." Clary's determination surprised Jace, and he saw another flash of Valentine in her; she was strong, much stronger than her looks belied. There was a glint in her gaze that drew him up short, and an edge to her smile like a razor.

"No, he won't stop you," Jace agreed, and then waved Alec over.

"Well, this is cozy, isn't it?" Alec asked, looking about and then seating himself beside Jace. "A little low over here, but I can make do for the time at least."

"Did Magnus have any words for you?"

Alec dropped his eyes. "He said that tomorrow afternoon, around three or four, we should leave the city by the north route-he said the Rangers used it and you would know-and he'll have horses waiting for our party. There's going to be food, enough for four of us for a week-but just barely; he said we should plan on hunting on the return trip. There's also going to be a small bit of money for us, and weapons for all."

Jace nodded, thinking. "I know the north road."

"When should we leave?" Alec asked. "To get to all the supplies that Magnus prepared, how soon should we plan to go?"

"We'll leave tomorrow at two, and then hurry through the city. I don't think the road will be watched, since we'll be well within the hours before curfew, but I don't want any unfriendly eyes watching us leave." Jace sighed; Clary and he were too recognizable for go through the city unless they were hooded and cloaked. "If we take the alley ways and back roads we should fare better."

"It'll be risky," Alec said grudgingly. "Even though most of the soldiers will be above the city, there will still be some here, keeping watch over the city. I don't think they're going to take kindly to us trying to leave the city by some secret road."

Jace shrugged. "What's life without a little risk?"

"Much better," Alec muttered, but he was smiling a little at Jace's recklessness. "I'm going to find some food and start us a meal. Keep an eye on Max, will you; I think Isabelle has her hands full."

Jace and Clary waved Isabelle over, and Max followed closely, wondering what was so important they had to speak of it. However, Jace and Clary had nothing interesting to say beyond speculate on the outcome of the war. While Max enjoyed talk of soldiers, werewolves, vampires and the like, he really wanted to hear about Jace's plans for attack, because, Max reasoned, Jace would always have a plan ready. Jace, though, was content to sit beside Clary and joke with Isabelle and tell Max stories he had heard as a young boy about battle.

After some time, Alec called them over, and, seated on crates, they ate beef stew out of old bowls. "What are we supposed to do?" Max whined. "It's only been an hour and I'm _bored_!"

Alec rolled his eyes, but Clary smiled at him kindly. "When I was a little girl and I was bored, I used to sit and write stories."

"You did?" Max asked, his eyes glimmering. "Did your father let you?"

"He didn't know," Clary said, winking. "See, I was supposed to be learning my languages, arithmetic, and runes, but some days I would sneak spare paper and quills in and write adventure stories while my father wasn't looking."

"What about?" asked Max, leaning a little closer.

Clary smiled wanly. "Oh, all sorts of things…I had a hero, you see, a shadowhunter hero, who couldn't remember who he was and so he traveled the world, trying to find his past."

"What was his name?" Max asked breathlessly.

"He didn't know it."

"Where was he from?"

"He couldn't remember," Clary laughed. "It was just a story I dreamed up and wrote to amuse myself. Perhaps you should, too, Max; perhaps you should write a story."

Max frowned in thought. "Whose story?"

"Yours," Jace answered softly. "You have a story, Max, and an adventure story at that. One day, someone is going to want to know it."

Clary grinned shyly up at Jace, wondering where this father figure sometimes emerged from; Jace seemed to so suited to taking care of a child. As dinner faded into a quiet evening, Clary, Jace, Isabelle, and Alec shared concerned, dark looks. Above them, they could hear the grey exodus of the city; soldiers were streaming up to greet the moonlight and world, preparing for the battle about to come. Clary thought it was like thunder, the rumbling, shaking, and groaning they heard just above their heads.

Though they forced conversation, it wasn't enough to keep any of them interested. Clary finally gave up and settled in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, mentally preparing herself for the coming day. _You're returning to Idris, you're going home...and _he'll_ be there waiting. You have to be ready to see him again._

Clary considered this, and realized that over the last few months, she had been slowly pushing thoughts of her brother away. She thought carefully over all her memories, and when she thought to herself, _Jonathan, _she kept seeing the young boy who had once been her older brother. She saw his fair skin, his pale blond hair, and those eyes that used to glow; that boy had been her brother, _that _boy was Jonathan. Clary felt no shame admitting that she missed that boy; she missed her real brother.

_He's gone, though, and he's left behind this monster masquerading in his skin. _Clary shuddered at the thought, and clamped her eyes shut. _You can fix this, Clary, you can make it right. Now you know the truth about your father's insanity, and you know Jonathan was innocent. You can heal him, you can resurrect your brother._

It was an intriguing thought: healing Jonathan. Though they were currently at war with him, a small part of Clary's heart felt immense sympathy for her brother, and she wanted to try and help him. When all this was over and they had the Mortal Cup and they had stopped the demon army, Clary wanted to return Jonathan to his former self.

_He's not so gone yet, he doesn't belong to the dark,_ she thought, and began puzzling over how she might set about making a rune that could banish the demon from him. After a time, she felt the bed give beneath her and Jace curled up on her side. She rolled over to see him, but before she could speak, he kissed her firmly on the lips.

"What are you thinking of that gives your face that serious look?" he asked, brushing the hair off her face.

"Jonathan."

Jace scrunched his nose in distaste. "Why would you think about that? You know how sick it makes you…"

"I want to help him, Jace," Clary said softly, hoping Isabelle wouldn't hear such traitorous thoughts. "He was poisoned by my father against his will; Jonathan didn't want to become this monster. I think I can help him."

"He may be beyond help," Jace whispered after a moment. "Demon blood is corrosive to mortals, it eats away at everything that makes us who we are: love, sympathy, empathy, friendship. The damage might be too extensive at this point to heal."

Clary frowned, but it wasn't that hopeless look Jace had grown used to seeing; it was just thoughtful and considering. "I will have to see how Jonathan is. I will have to see if there's anything left of my brother, or if he really has turned completely to the dark. For my part, I hope not."

Jace continued to brush Clary's hair, and was about to kiss her neck when she felt the bed creak again. Max was crawling onto the bed under Isabelle's close supervision; it had been agreed that he would sleep in the center of the adults, Jace and Clary on one side, Isabelle and Alec on the other. Jace smiled wistfully at Clary but winked, as if promising to pick up later. Clary rolled over to face Max, and she saw his face was oddly serious.

"What if we lose the war?" he asked quietly, peeking behind him to make sure neither Isabelle nor Alec saw him. "What if tomorrow the demons beat us and then they come down here?"

Clary wasn't quite sure how to go about comforting a child-she'd never had to before, but she decided to give it the best go she could. She drew Max against her in a warm embrace. "The Clave is going to win, Max, but, if for some reason we don't, me, Jace, Isabelle and Alec will protect you. Jace and I know how to fight, we were trained to fight, and we will not let _anything _happen to you. I swear on the Angel, Max, that we'll protect you."

Max released a pent up breath and Clary realized it must have been troubling him most of the night. He relaxed against Clary, snuggling closer to her. "Thank you, Clary," he murmured into her neck, and then closed his eyes.

In that single moment, Clary felt a strange warmth blossoming in her chest. Before Jace, Clary had never been allowed to love something, and now, holding Max in her arms, she thought that maybe she might know what it meant to love someone she didn't know unconditionally. Max was just a little boy, and he was scared, so, naturally, Clary felt the urge to comfort him-and that's what she did. For the rest of the night, Clary slept with Max in her arms and Jace's arm tossed about her waist.

_This could have been your life,_ she thought as she dozed off. _You could have been a wife and mother, living happily at Woodend. Every night, you and Jace and your child could have curled up together. You could have had it all._

* * *

The next day dawned, and the small group of hidden friends rose with it. There was a poorly contained tension in the air, and Clary was surprised that Max didn't notice. They ate breakfast quietly and then busied themselves about the cellar. Max had set about writing, and though he wasn't quite an accomplished writer, his script was legible enough. As noon rolled around, Clary and Isabelle sat in the corner and began to polish their boots with oil and mend any holes in their traveling gear. They spoke quietly as they worked.

"We're going soon," Isabelle said, and her voice shook with something Clary couldn't name. "I never thought I'd return to the palace, not after everything I saw…"

"You're not the only one," Clary gulped. "I wished every night I was there that I could run away, and I dreamed of the day that I might ride my horse through the gates and into freedom. Now that I'm going back, it's making me sick."

Isabelle considered her boots. "How exactly are we going to sneak into the castle without being seen?"

"There are a few servants' stairs we can take," Clary said, thinking. "I'm a bit more concerned about how we're going to sneak into Jonathan's private rooms without being spotted. There's also the demons we have to consider. If he really has given them free rein, they'll be stalking the palace grounds for anything edible."

Isabelle eyes widened, but she gathered herself up and slipped her feet into boots. "I'm going to give Max his lunch, and within the hour he should be asleep. We'll have to move fast then."

Clary looked over at Max who was scribbling and nodded. "See to it. I'll make sure the boys are ready."

Isabelle went to prepare a stew for Max laced with the sleeping potion, and Clary crept over to Jace and Alec who were speaking in hushed voices. She knelt down before them, pretending to examine Jace's boots for holes; Max was watching them between Isabelle's arms, curious over what the three were discussing. "Are you two ready?"

"Whenever you are," Jace answered seriously. "Hopefully Magnus stuck to his word and we've got horses waiting."

"He will," Alec said stoutly, shooting Jace a reprimanding look.

They waited while Max ate his lunch, slurping up the last bits. He came to them while he was nibbling a piece of bread. "What are you three whispering about?"

"Nothing," Alec answered too quickly.

Jace winked at Max, recovering for Alec. "Best way to prank your sister; you won't tell her, will you?"

Max looked gratified, and then crawled up comfortably on Jace's lap. "I won't tell, but if Isabelle figures out you're trying to play a joke on her, she'll flay you within an inch of your life. I remember once, when we lived on the farm, Alec and me put of bucket of milk on the doorframe…" Max yawned and leaned back against Jace for support. "She was so mad, and it was all over her."

Jace nodded encouragement, but Max was dozing off; his eyes fluttered shut and his face fell slack. "How long will he sleep?" Jace asked, standing up and shifting Max's weight around. "Is he going to wake up once we're gone?"

"By the time Max wakes up, the battle should be over; I think Magnus will come down for him and explain his part in our escape." Alec watched Jace throw back the covers on the bed and tuck Max in. He realized how much he loved his little brother, and bit his lip. "Simon can stay and watch him until."

Jace smiled bravely at Alec and then called to the girls. "It's time to go. Let's get our things and head out."

Clary and Isabelle heaved their small packs on their backs and carefully mounted the stairs that led out of the cellar; behind them, Alec and Jace were finishing off a note to Simon asking him to check in on Max, and make sure that if he woke up before the battle was over he was cared for. The cellar door creaked open just enough for Clary to peek out and check that their way was clear. Simon was nowhere in sight, but that certainly didn't mean that he wasn't watching.

"We're going to have to be fast if we want to get out," Clary called back. "Simon might be watching us, and I don't want to have to fight him to get by. Jace, where do run?"

Jace considered the layout of the land around Jocelyn's house. "If we can get to the trees behind the house, we can trek through the woods a bit until we get to main road. We should be able to throw Simon off our trail."

Clary nodded and her eyes strayed across the grass and garden and to the protection of the trees. "Alright, we'll run straight across, jump the fence and into the shadows. Ready?" she asked back. There was some muttering and nodding agreement. "Here we go again." Clary breathed out, and she felt the familiar tension in her muscles before she launched herself into action; it felt good, like a pleasant buzzing. For a second, she remained hidden beneath the cellar doors, and then she shot out like a dart.

Behind her, Clary could hear Isabelle's slightly more clumsy foot falls, and then Alec's stumble and Jace's perfectly graceful stride. She didn't know if they were being watched, if even then they were being chased down, and Clary didn't care. All she could see was the shadows of the sparse forest just beyond the back fence. She leaned forward, putting on an extra spurt of speed, and then Clary bound over the fence, and she hit the dirt in the shade of the leaves. Behind her, Isabelle skidded to a halt, kicking up dirt followed closely by Alec, and lastly by Jace, who landed his jump delicately and silently.

Isabelle turned to Clary about to speak, but Clary made a swift, silencing gesture and pointed along the trees in the direction they were going. Jace now led them, and he led them at a pace that even Clary considered to be punishing. They raced through the shadows of the trees, their thoughts solely on being unseen and unheard; it was disconcerting, the silence they ran through, there was no birdsong, no rustling of animals through the undergrowth, just their steady footfalls.

After some time, Jace led them back through the trees and they came out on a cobbled road, some distance away from the street that housed the upper members of the Clave. They were now on the outskirts of the city proper, and before them, they saw the many rooftops and spires of the buildings. Jace paused a moment to consider what direction to take, and he then pointed instead to a road that swiveled away along the outer rim of the city.

Now they had come to the difficult part of their escape: traveling through the city. Though many of citizens were above now, there were still a number that had remained. The last thing any of them wanted was for a gossiper to spot them running and whisper that they saw the Herondales and Lightwoods up and about. No, instead, Jace had decided the best chance they had of passing unseen was to take a back road that ran behind the backs of shop and city houses.

Upon entering the city, they all suddenly became acutely aware of their surroundings. They saw mostly the backyards of houses and stores, small fenced in patches of grass or gardens, a stray chicken or dog. Luckily, no one peered out their back door as they ran by, and if they did, they saw nothing but the four cloaked figures vanishing in the shadows.

It took almost an hour to pass through the entire city unhampered, but it was worth the extra time. Jace's unerring steering led the small group away from the city and into darker, untamed terrain. They were now trekking through heavily forested land, forced to fight with brambles and stray branches, and their going was even slower. Isabelle noticed, though, when she was thinking of Max and looked back to view the city where she had left him, that she could no longer see the trail they had taken, and instead, saw only trees. Jace finally drew them to a halt before the stone face that marked the end of the hollowed city.

"I'll have to use runes to open the gate," he said over his shoulder, recalling the runes he'd been taught while in the Watch. "If all goes well, when we exit we should find ourselves on the northern border, where we met Simon."

"I hope we've managed to avoid the battle," Clary worried, thinking of the hour they wasted going the long way around the city.

"If we haven't," Isabelle said, "can we reenter the city through this tunnel?"

"If we're not set upon by demons; so, keep a weapon handy," Jace warned, and then turned to face the wall.

Clary waited breathlessly, fingering the hilt of a knife; it was one of her only weapons she'd been able to salvage, and she hoped that Magnus had managed to secure them many more. Every now and then, she would look around them at the trees that closed them in. She knew they were well beyond the city and that no one had followed them, but she couldn't forget Simon's attack. What if someone followed them?

"Got it," Jace hissed, his face smug. "Let's go, and remember, keep your weapons out."

The stone wall slid back, revealing a dark, steeply angled tunnel. A gust of fresh air rushed out to meet them, and Jace tossed his head back and took off up the stairs, witchlights flickering into existence as he went. Next went Alec, then Isabelle, and Clary followed up the rear; as soon as they had passed beyond it, the entrance slid shut, and they were now safely beyond reach.

The going was slow, since they were forced to go in single file and the stairs were too steep to run. Jace didn't seem concerned with the dark, but both Isabelle and Alec ran their hands along the walls, as if afraid the darkness might consume them suddenly. Clary, who kept seeing witchlights flicker out behind her, was a little nervous, thinking it was a dark foreboding of the future. After some time, they all felt a drastic change in the temperature of the air: It was getting colder. Still, they went on, pushing up like rabbits burrowing out of a hole, and still the air became colder and crisper, and finally Jace gave a pleased whoop.

"I can see the light!" he called back, and, throwing caution to the wind, Jace took off running for the light of day. Isabelle and Alec were overjoyed, and they took off at a breakneck pace, Clary shooting up the stairs last. There was a single moment of trepidation where Jace checked the land about the exit to the city, scouting to see if they were trapped in the middle of a demon army, and then Jace's face reappeared, a smile in place. "It's clear, let's go!"

They all piled out at once, and the fresh air and later winter sunlight hit them. A breeze rippled across Clary's hair and lifted it off her neck, and she shuddered with excitement. "Are the horses here? Did Magnus come through?" Her eyes were scanning the small outcropping and the trees that pressed in on all sides. "When are we leaving?"

"One thing at a time, Clary," Jace laughed, drawing near and kissing her. "The horses are just inside the trees, out of sight, and yes, Magnus has stocked them with weapons and food for the journey."

"And we're leaving soon?" Isabelle asked sharply, watching while Alec covered the small, secret exit they had used with underbrush.

"As soon as can be," Jace said, frowning. "It'll be tough going until we're out of forested area; the snow is going to pose a small problem too, slow us up some."

Clary followed Jace's line of sight, and found, tucked just within the protective boughs of the trees, four waiting horses. When they saw her, the horses tossed their manes and snorted in her direction. Clary reached out and ran her hand down the horses' snouts in turn. "You ready for the long haul?" One of the horses, a brown mare with a white star, nibbled Clary's hand in response and she smiled before tromping back to her friends in the clearing. "Shall we go?"

"The sooner the better, I expect," Alec grunted, trying to look unconcerned.

"We're going to want to outrun the army," Jace said, heading for the trees and the horses. "We'll have to ride through most of the day and night before we're out of any danger."

There was a murmured consent and the four mounted their horses. Once everyone was situated and as comfortable as they could be in the saddle, they set off. It was, as Jace had said, hard going. The snow was still clinging to the ground, and the horses had a hard time with it when the drifts became too deep. There was a fearful silence in the forest, as if all the animals sensed the oncoming storm of demons, and their horses' footfalls seemed to echo in the trees around them. It was also bitterly cold, and if the humans were freezing, it was nothing to how the horses, unprotected from the elements, felt.

Jace led the way, his eyes peeking out from beneath his heavy cloak, searching for danger, and he kept his blade at the ready. Clary had drawn up to his side, and though she was mostly silent, they shared a few warm glances of hope. Behind them, Isabelle and Alec were split between exhilaration at their current adventure and fear at what the end was going to bring. So, for the first few hours, no one spoke, and their eyes seemed to jump from tree to tree, searching for danger. Distantly, they all knew that there was a war, and perhaps even then, it was underway.

The sun rose up slowly in the sky, arching above them and making their shadows lengthen. Never once did they spot another living creature, and never once did they see a demon. As night drew in, there was talk of stopping and building a fire, but as they were still in the forests about Alicante, it was decided it wasn't safe. None of them knew how far out the spells were going to reach, so they didn't know how far away they had to get to be safe. They pressed onward, farther and farther into the night.

Now, they knew that the war had begun; they couldn't hear it, they couldn't see it, but there was a feeling that hung in the air all about them, and Clary was quite sure it might just be magic. Her worries redoubled, and she pressed them on even more, adamant that they escape the valley where Alicante was nestled. When the moon reached its peak, they saw not far ahead, the cliff face that marked the edge of the valley.

"Hurry!" Clary ordered, pointing to the path that was cut into the stone. "We need to be beyond the valley before the sun rises." Clary kicked her horse into a gallop, and Jace, slouched in his saddle was stirred into action.

The four shot off, their horses kicking up snow in their wake. They set off up the winding path, and now their going was hampered by the ice slicks that clung to the edges of the path. The horses were wary of road, tossing their head and snorting anxiously, and Clary was half exasperated with them, half accepting of them; as much as she wanted to hurry beyond the boarders, she didn't want to risk falling to her death on the slick mountain side.

When the moon was sinking beneath the trees and the sky was lighting with the first pale blue of morning, the horses topped the mountain face and drew them up beyond the valley. Their muscles sore, their eyes laden, and their nerves strung tight enough to break, they looked down upon the valley and Alicante.

"Oh, my…" Isabelle whispered.

Below them, they saw the city, and it was alight in with flames and glowing blue light. They could see in the darkness, patches of withering pitch black that must have been demon hordes, and then bright explosions as the city ruins were catching fire. About the perimeter of the city, a flowing ring of runes was glowing a mysterious blue. Smoke was rising in spirals out of the city, and flames were leaping higher and higher. It looked, from where they stood, like a miniature hell.

"Well, we've made it," Jace sighed. "We're beyond the city boarders."

Clary stared down on the chaos below and wondered with vague fear that if that was what they were leaving behind, what had they escaped to?


	21. Prize

**I know I posted this a little early, but I was really excited to have this chapter done and out. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

Prize

They had been riding for three days, three uneventful days, when they finally spotted a sign that the woods was coming to its end. For days, they had ridden through an endless barrage of tree trunks, the light falling in dappled shadows, and the horses kicking up snow. They never saw any signs of demons, and Jace said this was a good thing; it meant that none of the demons Jonathan had sent had managed to escape Alicante. They were, however, nervous of pursuit; Jocelyn was no doubt furious with their plan, and they were surprised she hadn't gone after them, Luke's werewolf pack in her wake. Because of this, Jace had urged them all on faster, and they rested only once a day, for five hours at a time, just long enough for a scant amount of sleep. When the trees began to thin, there was a general feeling of relief about the quartet.

"Finally beyond the reach of the Clave," Clary sighed, drawing up beside Jace. "Though I don't know if it's any better out here; it seems we're caught between Jonathan and the them."

Jace nodded thoughtfully. "Hopefully, with one fell blow, we can finish them both. With the Cup, the Clave can build an army and undo all Jonathan has done. Then you and I can return to Woodend and start life anew."

The thought of Woodend made Clary smile a bit, and she snuggled down into her cloak. "We just need the Cup. How far to the palace?"

"It'll be another three day's ride," Jace said, considering the trip ahead, and then turned to Isabelle and Alec who were talking quietly of Max, Simon, and Magnus. "We'll go on now, and take a rest around midnight. Hopefully, we'll meet with some village or city soon and buy food. Let's go."

They set off again, and soon, found the river that Luke had taken Jace by. Travel was certainly faster by wolf back, Jace thought regretfully, but he had no doubt no werewolf in their right mind would offer any assistance. Now that they were beyond the woods about Alicante, though, there was a subtle difference in the land around them. Though Jace would never have called it magic, he believed that some enchantment, or maybe just the blessing of the Angel, had protected the forests around Alicante. For whatever reason, something was foul beyond the borders of the shadowhunter homeland.

Wherever they looked, there were signs of madness and darkness about the lands. The trees through which they rode where wilted and grey, and none of the coming spring was coaxing them to life. The snow and ice clung to the land fiercely, refusing to melt; the horses were slowed terribly by the high drifts and at night, they all shivered, wrapping their cloaks tighter and tighter. Any fires they started were small, and barely burned beyond the pit, their flames orange and yellow, but never the desired blue. The sun never rose fully, and a perpetual darkness seemed to have settled over the land.

During the second day of riding, they found the first signs of civilization. There were traps set for small game, and here and there, the markings of hunting parties. Isabelle hummed, pleased, as she desperately wanted to stop by a pub and buy a large, warm mulled wine. However, as they drew nearer and nearer, something unsettled them, and it was Alec who was the first to spot something truly disturbing.

They were on a main road, hoods drawn to ward off curious eyes, and directly off the beaten dirt and snow was a small boy, crouched low in drifts. He was fiddling with something, muttering all the while. As they drew level with him, Alec gasped, because in the boy's hands was a small rodent, most likely a mouse, and it was squirming frantically-due mostly to the fact that the boy was peeling its flesh off.

"What are you doing?" Alec demanded, his horse snorting and tossing its head. "Stop it, boy!"

Jace and Clary both turned about in their saddles, and Isabelle, who was by Alec's side, drew her horse away. Clary heard the mouse give a tormented squeal as the boy tugged a strip of its flesh clean off. "Let that poor thing go, or put it out of its misery!"

The boy surveyed them all with blank eyes. "Why? It's just a mouse." As if to prove a point, the boy plucked one of its whiskers off.

"You're torturing it," Isabelle rasped, and her hand moved unerringly for the knife at her boot. "If you were planning on eating it, at last do the honorable thing and end its life fast."

The boy seemed truly confused; he titled his head to the side. "I'm not going to eat it," he said, and then promptly snapped the poor things neck. He tossed the corpse aside and then gathered some snow in his hands to clean the blood off. "I was just playing."

"What's wrong with you?" Clary snarled, and she pushed her horse closer, her eyes glinting. "You ought to be punished. Where's your village?"

The boy shrugged, unimpressed by Clary's outrage. "Just about the bend."

"Come with us," Clary ordered, pointing ahead of her. "You'll lead us and then we'll have a talk with your parents. Such cruelty is not to go unpunished."

The boy seemed even more confused, but then stood up and walked off. Jace stared long and hard at the boy and then looked back to the sorry corpse of the mouse. There was something at work here, and he didn't know if they could risk the time or the energy to see it through. He loosed his sword and told the others to do the same before they entered the village.

Jace had been right. The small village was oddly empty, the houses' windows blank, no smoke spiraling up from the chimneys. There was no noise, not a tired sigh, a baby's wail, or a child's playful scream; it was too quiet for comfort. As they entered the town center, though, they were greeted by what must have been the entire village. The gathering was whispering, pointing to something on a large prow in the middle of the large circle. When the four arrived, one of the horses gave a shrill cry, and Jace used the sound to draw their attention.

"Villagers!" he cried, and they turned as one to face him. Jace gave the boy a push. "Whose boy is this?"

"What you doing to my son, then?" a woman snarled, coming forward and taking her son's hand. "You leave my boy alone if you know what's best for you."

"Your son was torturing a field mouse out on the road," Alec said angrily. "He didn't take a care for its pain; he was skinning it alive!"

"And what of it?" the boy demanded, his eye glinting. "It's just a mouse!"

"Do you hear your son?" Alec said fiercely to the woman.

"I do, and I don't care." She lifted her chin. "Let him have his play; what's the use in having mice if not for play? They're nothing but rodents leastways."

Jace's gold eyes burned and he felt his hand shake. "It's a foul-" Clary's gasp cut Jace off. She cried, pointing to the center of the circle of people.

This close now, they could properly see what had been placed on the prow, what all the people had been muttering about. It was a baby, a live, crying baby; its little fists flailed about in the cold and its cries rent the air painfully. What had drawn Clary's attention, though, was the man dressed all in black who was standing over the small bundle, a wicked knife clasped in two hands, raised above the baby. He was muttering fast in a harsh language, one none of them knew. He gave a cry and brought the knife down with a flash; the crying suddenly ceased.

"By the Angel!" Clary cried.

The woman snorted. "Angel? Who praises the Angel anymore?"

Alec was enraged, and Jace almost as much so; they both kicked their horses forward and they split the crowd, plowing down anyone who wanted to block them. By the time they arrived at the scene, the poor thing was dead, a gash bone deep across its small chest. Jace's eyes, though, were drawn to the decoration about the table: skulls, human skulls, skulls too small to belong to an adult.

"What is this?" Jace demanded of the man in black who had murdered the child. "What have you done?" He drew his sword and leveled it with the man's head. "Speak carefully."

The man snorted and smiled smugly. "I am praising the Great Goddess. She asks for the blood of a newborn, and so we offer it to her."

Jace's hand shook, but before he could so much as ask, Clary gave a cry of fury and a dagger shot from her hand. Before the man in black could speak his next revolting comment, Clary's knife had burrowed itself in his throat. A cry of terror went up through the amassed crowd and they scattered before the four horsed intruders. Clary didn't care, she was shaking and gave a furious cry.

"What is this place?" Clary's horse spun about. "Who are these people?"

"We should go," Isabelle said quickly looking from place to place. "There's something wrong with this place, something very wrong. We need to go!"

Clary wanted to stay and seek justice for the many dead babies, but Jace seemed to agree, because he nodded and urged his horse to flee. The four shot from the village, their hoods falling back and their hair streaming out before them. In the distance, they could hear the cries of the villagers, and they followed them as they ran. The four didn't stop for hours, not until night had fallen and their horses could go no further.

Clary shuddered and caught Jace's hand. "What was that place? And what were they doing?"

Jace shook his head. "The man said praising the Great Goddess."

"Great Goddess?" Isabelle snarled. "By murdering babies? Has the world gone mad?"

"Did you hear what the woman said?" Clary said suddenly, looking between them. "I spoke of the Angel and she said, who praises him anymore. They no longer believe in the Angel."

"This isn't good," Jace said contemplatively. "I think this is Jonathan's work. Murdering the innocent, torture, the Great Goddess? It sounds like he's trying to run the old ways out."

"Should we keep going before rest?" Alec asked, his thoughts still on the poor baby he'd seen murdered.

"We'll keep going the rest of the night," Jace said, looking back the way they had come. "I want to be far away from these parts, though I think this isn't the last we're going to see of this madness."

They pressed on, haunted by the village, and when the sun rose, cold and bleak, they finally drew off the road and into a small copse of trees. They didn't starting a fire, and instead ate cold bread and meat, and then Alec and Isabelle set to a watch, and Jace and Clary took the first sleep. Clary pressed herself against Jace, trying to push the slaughtered baby from her mind, but it just wouldn't go. She heaved a dry sob and Jace lifted her chin up so she could look into his eyes.

"Don't think of it, Clary, just try and put it from your thoughts." When her lips trembled, he kissed her. "Think of other things."

Clary closed her eyes and tried to picture Max, sleeping curled up by her side. Her body relaxed a little, and she drew her hood up to blot out the world around her. It was only the presence of Jace that allowed her any sleep at all, and when she woke, she was still bone tired. She and Jace, though, gathered themselves and sat by to watch over Isabelle and Alec while they slept. When the sun was at its peak, they all set to mounting their horses and setting out again.

Now they were entering more built up parts, and they knew the palace was near at hand. There were more people on the road, and they were forced to draw their hoods up and keep their faces down. Men and women on the road talked, and they caught snatches of their conversation: Jonathan's campaign against the demon-folk, the bitter, unending winter, the Great Goddess, and rumors of the lord and ladies. None of it sat well with Jace, Clary, or the Lightwoods, and they wished fervently for the safety of the Alicante again.

_Something has happened here,_ Clary thought fearfully. _These people have been poisoned by Jonathan's madness. We need the Cup as soon as possible._ Clary now felt the urgency of stopping her brother even more. The darkness was all around them, and between Idris and Alicante, she would take the Clave any day.

When they finally topped a hill, they found themselves looking down upon the bustling city and accompanying palace. Clary drew a sharp breath. "We're home."

They passed down the hillside, almost like ghosts, and into the bustling metropolis that ringed the palace. Clary found herself again shocked by the sheer size and diversity of the city. With each turn of her head, she was given a new view. Buildings flanked a cobbled street, their windows frosted from the cold, and glowing pale yellow from the candles within. Smoke rose in spirals from every chimney and seemed to gather like clouds above the city, and only proved to hold back the light of the sun. One the street was a thorough of people from every conceivable walk of life. Clary saw the merchant class first, their warm furs and bright colored clothing shone like a flag, announcing their arrival wherever they went. Though they weren't as ostentatious as the ruling class Clary had grown up around, they was a certain air about them, in the way they spoke, the way they dressed, even in the way the women styled their hair: it was desperation and envy. Clary also spotted the working class citizens, the craftsmen and bakers and tailors who went about their business, speaking quietly and keeping their heads bowed to the wind. It was in the shadows she saw the dregs of the society, hunched adults in tattered robes and dirty, grimy children who begged for a coin, food, anything.

The four pressed on, and now Isabelle drew alongside Clary and lowered her voice. "When we stop, you should pretend to be my nursemaid; we can pretend I'm being escorted by my brothers to my husband, and I'm sick with child."

Clary raised one copper eyebrow. "Jace and Alec do not favor each other."

"He's a bastard," Isabelle shrugged, and earned herself a very malicious smile from Jace. "You haven't been gone that long, Clary, only seven or eight months; I do not think the people have quite forgotten your face. The farther away from Princess Clarissa Morgenstern you are, the better."

"Alright then," Clary nodded and cast her gaze about. No one seemed to paying her attention, but that didn't mean Jonathan's spies weren't out and about. Surely, they would be tracking her? "Why don't we stop by an inn with a bar? We'll have to wait till evening if we want to sneak into the palace; the court will be dining then."

Jace and Alec agreed, and after a quick survey of the shop fronts about them, chose a place called _The North Star_, an establishment of some size and propriety. They pulled their horses aside and carefully dismounted and entered the inn. It was large and open on the bottom floor, with two hearths alive and bright, small lanterns hung from the wood paneled walls, and tables crowded all about, many of them claimed. No one seemed interested in the people who had just entered, in fact, they only spoke louder.

"There," Isabelle said, jerked her head to an empty table in a corner. As they settled, a waitress came and took orders for wine with a bored expression. Once she had gone and come back, they sank into whispered talk.

"So," Alec began with trepidation, "we're waiting until the dinner starts before we enter the palace. When do they dine?"

"Six or so," Clary said meditatively. "We have about three hours, but we should plan to leave very soon; the palace will be well guarded, and we'll have to sneak along the river bank and into the gardens."

"There's a door in gardens the slaves used," Isabelle said excitedly. "It takes us down into the dormitories and from there, we can take the servants' stair up to the main level."

Jace nodded. "Will any of the slaves know you?"

"Will they know _you_?" Alec asked back meaningfully. "These cloaks will have to be discarded if we want to pass for anything like a slave, and the weapons will have to be hidden. You might consider a bit of dirt and despondency just to give off the effect-"

"You lot doing alright then?" asked the server who had returned and was eyeing them all curiously. Her gaze rested on Clary's downcast face. "Don't I know you, girl?"

Clary felt her mouth go dry, but she was saved responding by Isabelle's imperious voice. "I would think not, seeing as she's been living out on my husband's land all her life. This is her first time in a city this size." Clary eyes moved to Isabelle, but she kept her face turned down in what she hoped was a timid look. "She's my nursemaid, but the poor thing is hardly worth a thing; she can't read _or_ write, all she's good for is keeping my baby alive."

The waitress cocked a hip. "I swear I seen her."

"Impossible," Isabelle dismissed.

"Well, suppose it's a mistake," the woman replied, looking around the table. "We get so many outlandish people in the town nowadays. Never know one face from the other, do I."

"Outlandish?" Jace asked sharply, and the woman smiled welcoming at him. "People coming into town more often?"

"Course they are," said the woman. "There's been a call going out around the country for soldiers and servants up at the castle, just last month as is. King Jonathan has been summoning able bodied men and women willing to serve the kingdom. They go up the road to the castle and never come back; marching off to war I expect."

"You've heard of the war?" Alec asked a little foolishly.

"Who hasn't?" the woman responded. "It's all there been talk of for the last two months. Rumors have gotten out about demon people who live out in the wilderness and make pacts with animals. It's only King Jonathan and the great lords who hold off their assault."

Jace's face flushed at being called a _demon person_. "I suppose you've seen the lords and ladies then?"

"Are you mad?" she asked sharply, giving Jace a suspicious look. "They live up at the castle, deep in war council they are. Never leave."

"Probably very busy," Jace agreed and offered the woman a smile that won her trust again. "Well, thank you. we should be getting on soon."

"Do stop back by," the waitress said with a meaningful look at Jace before she flounced off.

Clary waited until the woman was gone before opening her mouth. "Jonathan has been summoning men and women?"

"It's certainly not for war," Isabelle said darkly. "Do you think it's got to do with the demons he's called up?"

"If it is, I pity those poor souls," Jace said softly. "Demons feed off people, and they must be running short on fresh flesh up there, locked away behind their towers and gates."

"You don't think he's feeding them to his de-?"

Clary shushed Alec sharply. "Don't go blabbing about it! Our success rests in secrecy."

Alec snapped his mouth shut and Jace and Isabelle finished their wine. The four sat for a time, waiting for the light to wane a little and their time to come. When four-thirty rolled about, Clary stirred and whispered for them to rise and leave. They did so, still unlooked for and still invisible to most eyes. They took their horses toward the docks and took advantage of the lull in sea traffic caused by the solid ice, and then they ordered their horses into the small, natural ravine that formed around the river. Following this, they made their slow, careful way towards the palace and Jonathan.

After following the frozen river for almost half an hour, they drew to a halt before the royal dock, the horses whinnying and crying shrilly. They could sense the demons close by and could not master their fear like their riders. Isabelle rubbed the space between her horse's ears and cooed at it warmly. There was no one around, no sign of life-or worse, so they led the horses under the dock and dismounted. While they tied their horses loosely to the wooden beams that held up the dock, Jace was running over the plan.

"Dinner begins soon, and the court should all be there. We're going to use the edges that run along this path up into the garden. We should be able to go unseen to the door in the castle that leads us into the slaves' quarters. The meal itself should only last an hour, and we don't know what kind of entertainments, if any, these demon lords enjoy. We should plan for no more than an hour and half to do this."

"That's mad," Isabelle said sharply. "It'll take us an hour to sneak past all the slaves and get to Jonathan's room, let alone _finding _the Cup and then getting back out."

"It's out only choice," Jace said sternly. "It's the time we've been given, and it's what we're going to work with. Just keep a weapon ready and your ears and eyes open." His speech done, Isabelle and Alec dissolved into whispers, considering their best route. Jace, though, went to join Clary. She was shaking and her eyes were glassy. "Clary, Clary look at me."

When Clary just glanced up with empty eye, Jace drew her away from view and kissed her passionately on her lips. "I won't let anything happen to you, do you understand that?"

Clary rested her head on Jace's chest. "He's there, Jace, he's so close. I didn't think I would feel this way, but…I do."

"It's okay to be afraid, Clary," he said gently. "I'm going to protect you. Even from Jonathan."

"What if he catches us?" Clary's little fingers dug into Jace's shirt front. "If he finds us everything is lost. He'll have the Cup and us, and he'll use his army to destroy everything. And he'll kill you."

"He won't kill me," Jace promised.

But it was these words that stirred Clary to life; she lifted her eyes to his and he saw the hardness in them. "No, you're right, he won't kill you; I won't let him."

Jace nodded. "It'll all be over soon."

The hour drew nearer and nearer, and finally, they heard the resounding bell that signaled the summons to dinner. For perhaps a second, they waited tensely in the shadows of the dock, and then, like a snap of lightening, broke cover. They ran, bent over, along the high hedges that flanked the path to the boats, and before they realized where they were, they crashed through a strand of trees and found themselves in the palace gardens.

Clary had a fleeting rush of terror at being so very close to her prison of sixteen years, but there was no time for fear. They moved on swiftly through the frozen gardens, jumping bare flower beds and low hedges. They were all experiencing that heart-stopping terror, the feeling of the hunted. As they hurtled along, the walls of the palace drew nearer and nearer, and Isabelle was the first to spot the dip in the land that would give way to a small depression where the door to the slaves' quarters was hidden. It seemed like they all tumbled rather than landed before the door, but didn't even take time for a breath. Clary flicked out her stele and drew a bright, flashing rune; the door swung open soundlessly.

In they went, stumbling through the door and into the palace dark. When the door drew shut behind them, a feeling of finality and coldness settled over all of them. There was no more turning back now, they were in the palace. Now, Alec took the lead because he knew the way so well; they took the steps two at a time, descending into the belly of the palace.

_Does he know?_ Clary wondered, heart pounding. _Has Jonathan sensed that I've returned? Has he already sent his demons after me?_

It was too much to bear, so Clary forced her thoughts to the present, and to the sound of voices that was fast approaching. They came to a sudden bend in the stairs and a landing; they were at the slaves' quarters. Alec carefully removed his cloak and the others followed suit; each took a moment to adjust their clothing, to look more like a slave, and then Alec peeked around the corner; after half a minute, he waved them on to follow him.

The slaves' quarters were mostly bare, but for a few lone figures. At first, they were worried about the slaves seeing them and asking questions, but after a quick inspection, they saw how pointless these fears were. Isabelle gasped and drew against Clary, pointing weakly at the slaves; they were bent and pale, their eyes unseeing, their mouths slack. Something was very wrong with these slaves.

Still they moved on, and Alec brought them quickly to the servants' stair that was the main thoroughfare of the staff. At that moment, there were a few people there, carrying clothing to be washed, plates for the kitchen, food for the lords and ladies, but none of them even seemed to see the four intruders; it was if they were completely blind to the world around them, consumed with their menial task.

Upward they went, one floor, two floors, three floors, and still more. Clary was counting now, and every step she took begged her to turn back; they were coming too close to danger. When Alec drew them to a halt, Clary knew they had arrived and it was time to begin the horrible task of breaking into Jonathan's room and stealing the Cup.

"We won't have much time," Jace breathed, listening closely for and danger. "It'll be thirty minutes, that's as long as we can risk it. Let's go."

The door to the floor opened and the four poured out into the lavish hall. Clary and Jace both experienced the shock of seeing the palace once again, and, to their mounting horror, the doors to Clary's old bedroom. Jace paused on the spot, and then grabbed Clary's arm forcefully and pulled her down the hall. They met no one, and the rich carpet quieted their footsteps, but before the large, double doors that marked the entrance to the King's chamber, they were met with a powerful set of runes that locked the door. Both Jace and Clary set to work while Isabelle and Alec scanned the hall, and when the spell broke on the door, he hissed in victory.

In they went, stealing into Jonathan's chambers like wraiths. The entrance chamber was vast and dark, a fire burning in the grate, a number of dark furniture gathered around it. Jace glanced a book on the table, the cover painted in strange red runes he had never seen. Isabelle and Alec both noted how cold the room seemed, how very dark and quiet. Clary, though, couldn't bring herself to venture past the hearth; her eyes were wide and clouded.

"Jace," she whispered, "I can't do this. I can't go through with all this while he's down there. I'll guard the door…please, just do this without me."

Jace wanted to stay and coax Clary to come with him, but for once, he didn't have the time to tend to her emotions. Jace led Alec away from the entrance chamber and into the private study, sending Isabelle into his sleeping chambers. Clary loitered by the doors, listening for the sound of voices in the halls.

Jace and Alec were tearing the study apart, throwing papers asides, plans for war, numbers of crops. They dug through his chests, tossing books aside uselessly. Jace drew a blade and began cutting the chairs apart; a small part of him enjoyed running everything Jonathan had. Alec was checking the desks, jerking the drawers out and emptying their contents on the floor. In his bedroom, Isabelle had thoroughly destroyed his room. She had torn his closet and chests apart, lavish clothing piled in a heap on the floor. She had cut the mattress apart and torn the insides out. She was just giving up hope when she spotted the small, closed cabinet in the corner by the window.

"Anything, Alec?" Jace called desperately. "Have you seen anything that looks like a cup-?"

"_Yes_!" It was Isabelle, and she ecstatic.

Jace and Alec streamed out of the study just as Isabelle came out, the Cup aloft. Her face was the picture of victory, her eyes shining and her lips parted in that victory cry, but her face fell almost at once when Clary gave a cry of terror.

"It triggered an alarm!" she crowed, watching a rune flash across the door and then explode. The sound rang out down the hall, reverberating off the walls, shaking the panes of glass in the windows. For a moment, a breath's moment, there was silence, and then a snarl unlike any they had ever heard answered and the air was rent with cried.

"_Run_!" Jace cried, and the chase began.

Out into the halls they fled, and behind them, where the main stairs waited, they could hear strange footfalls coming. Clary led the way, Isabelle followed with the Cup, and Alec and Jace pulled up the rear. They could see the door to the servants' stair, if they could slip through before the demons were up, they'd be safe. A screech was heard and Clary gave a terrified cry, putting on an extra spurt of speed."

"Open the door!" Jace ordered as Clary's hand curled around the handle, but just then, the first of the demons cleared the stairs. Its eyes pinioned on the small group.

"Isabelle, keep going!" Clary ordered, throwing the door wide while Jace launched a knife that speared the demon. "Just keep running and don't look back. Get to the horses and get out of here!"

Isabelle's face paled in horror. "I can't leave you here-" but Clary shoved her, eyes alight with frantic energy.

"Just _go_," she said in a ragged voice. "Jace and I can hold them off while you escape."

Isabelle would have said more, but at that moment, Alec came up and tried to push Clary in next. Clary, marked with runes for strength, managed to swing around and force Alec into the hidden stair. Alec's mouth hung wide open, but Clary just shook her head and slammed the door shut in his face. She slashed her stele across the door, locking it firmly-just in case.

"Jace!" Clary cried, running up to where he was grappling with three demons. She shot past him, running her blade through the throat of one, then the other, and faced him. "I sent Isabelle and Alec away. They have the Cup."

For a moment, her words didn't sink in, but when they did, Jace's eyes flamed. "Clary, _no_. Go, go now!"

"I'm not leaving you here," Clary said firmly.

"I'm ordering you-"

Clary laughed just as another demon soared through the air; she slashed upward, slicing through its throat. "You'll do nothing of the sort, Jace; you're my husband, my best friend, my _equal_. Did you think I was just going to let you stay? Did you think I would leave you to Jonathan's mercy?"

"Clary, you have to go-"

"I'm staying with you," she said softly. "I promised you, didn't I?"

"I can't let him have you!" Jace sounded desperate, frantic. His eyes moved to the door and he saw the rune Clary had drawn, the same rune she'd used to lock her bedroom door all those many months ago. "I swore to protect you."

More demons were spilling into the corridor, and they were being forced back to the dead end. Clary kissed Jace fiercely. "You have, and you will; now, let _me_ protect _you_." Clary grasped Jace's left arm and raised her stele. "You swore to me, Jace, that if Jonathan was ever moments away from killing you, you'd let me bind you to myself. Now, it seems, is that time."

Jace's mouth was dry, but he heard a horrible groan and saw human shape, dark and shadowy, lurch toward them. A shiver raced up his spine and the breath in his throat died. The _real _demons were coming now. "Quickly," was all he said.

Jace's eyes moved from Clary's determined face to the strange figure that were streaming up the steps and slowly, surrounding them. They were human, at least in form, but their eyes were pitch black, their mouths gaping wide and fanged, and their hands hooked like claws. They lurched as if they weren't accustomed to walking on feet, and their bodies bent at weird angles. One of them he noticed was a woman who was walking backward, but it's head was turned about 180 degrees and its arms were stretching our behind it; it's mouth hung wide, the jaw unhinged, and a snake tongue lashed about-

"Ouch!" Jace gasped and looked down.

Clary was completely a very permanent looking rune. It was two entwined strands, they looked more likes vines than runes, and they looped about Jace's wrist almost like a bracelet. On Clary's right wrist was the same rune, and when she held up her wrist to his, the runes flared to life and glowed bright white. In a single moment, Jace felt a rush of his blood and suddenly a barrage of images passed over his mind: he saw fields of sloping grass, a young pale boy with bright eyes, a tall, beautiful red-haired woman, and then himself, standing tall and bathed in golden light. Jace jerked backward and stumbled against a wall, gasping; blood was pounding through his veins, his heart was beating out of tempo, emotions were flooding over him faster than he could understand.

Clary was still standing, leaning against the wall, but standing. She stared fiercely around at the assembled demons, all of them smiling back at her with their human faces. She knew this was it, this was the moment she had dreaded for months, but for some reason, she felt nothing but a pulsing courage. She knew it was her bond to Jace, and she took full advantage of it. Her eyes flashed and she placed a hand bracingly on Jace's shoulder. It was then that the hissing and snarling around her died. A fission went through the crowd and from the direction of the stairs, the crowd slowly parted.

The hairs on the back of Clary's neck prickled and she saw, as if from a distance, a tall, pale figure emerging. He strolled forward at a leisurely pace, as if out for an evening walk, but there was a contained ferocity about him that belied the grace. The crowd of spectator demons fell away and bowed back, and Clary felt the blood drain from her face and down to her toes.

It was Jonathan.

He stood before Clary, tall and darkly handsome, his eyes glowing with a wild light and his smile hungry and possessive. His lips turned up, revealing many white teeth; Clary was reminded of a wolf. His gaze slipped from hers, down to the still glowing rune, and then to the matching one on Jace's wrist. He frowned a bit, but seemed unconcerned. When he spoke, Clary shivered against her will but held strong to Jace.

"Welcome home, little sister. I've been waiting for you."

**This is the end of part two. The story will conclude in the third and final part, Empire of Starlight **

**I hope everyone who read this enjoyed it, and I want to thank everyone who reviewed. You really make it worthwhile! I am planning to post the first chapter of Empire of Starlight in about two weeks. I hope to hear from you then.**


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